Fallen
by MadnessMantra
Summary: Season 6 AU/ Alternate Timeline fic. Deans life with Lisa is suddenly interrupted when the sky starts spitting out angels. The chaos that follows may be just the beginning of a massive war between good, evil, and everything in between.
1. 1- Lisa

AN:

I love alternate time line/ alternate universe fics- playing around with timelines and events and seeing the fallout, so I thought I'd try my hand at it.

Updates are most likely going to be extremely sporadic, so, sorry.

**-LISA-**

The Braedon family Thanksgivings had always been notoriously violent affairs. When Lisa was ten years old, her grandfather got into a fistfight with one of her aunts new boyfriends after a harmless discussion about barbecue techniques somehow turned to politics. When she was seventeen, there had been an incident that resulted in two of her uncles not speaking to each other for an entire year. She still wasn't sure what the two of them had been arguing about- her sister Beth had sworn that the two had found out they were sleeping with each others wives, but Lisa had her doubts. She loved her sister- or at least tolerated her which was more then she could say for most of her family, but Beth was one of those people who got her news from cheap gossip magazines.

And then there was the year that Lisa herself had come to blows with her family- Ben had been two, and her cousin Stephen had started up a vitriolic rant about the welfare state, premarital sex and the 'moral degradation' of society. She had politely smiled through most of it, but when he started going off on how single mothers were leaching the taxpayers hard earned money, and looking _right at her_ as he said it, she had had enough. He had gone home with a broken nose and a black eye, and he now made a point to avoid her during holiday celebrations, even now, years later.

So really, she wasn't at all surprised when everything went to shit.

"Everything going to be fine." She had lied for what felt like the millionth time.

Dean didn't look convinced. He wasn't an idiot, and he knew the signs of impending disaster better then most. Her increasingly ridiculous excuses over the phone about how she 'really didn't think that she could make it this year' as she tried desperately to weasel them out of the annual Thanksgiving party. That attempt had failed quite spectacularly when Beth and her husband had declared that they would 'bring the party to them' if Lisa couldn't make it out to her parents house. Lisa had then resorted to what Dean called 'aggressive cleaning'- waging a war against all the dust in the house, switching tablecloths no less then five times, and angrily scrubbing everything that they owned while muttering about how her stupid sister couldn't take a hint. She knew that he could see the storm clouds approaching as well as she could.

The door bell rang, and Lisa tried to smile.

Beth was a brightly colored woman, by any definition of the word. Her long tanning habit had left her skin a pastel shade of pinkish-orange that was usually reserved for womens undergarments. She wore a necklace of thick red beads over a fitted purple sweater.

"Lisa! It's been too long!" Beth exclaimed smiling brightly, wrapping her up in a hug.

"Yeah, well... I've been really busy." Lisa laughed nervously.

"I can _see_ that!" Beth said, eyes sliding over to Dean. "Where did you pick _this_ one up?"

Beside her, Dean was staring at Beth with an expression that clearly said - _Dear God, what is this __**thing**__ and how do I kill it?_

Lisa forced a laugh, but was saved from having to answer the question by Ben.

"Hey, Aunt Beth, Uncle Jeff- come look at my science project!" He said, pulling them into the living room.

Lisa turned to Dean.

"Sorry again, about all of this."

"Hey, they're your family."

There is a sadness in his voice, and Lisa can't help but think of when he first showed up on her doorstep half a year ago. She had never seen anyone as broken- it was only after a month of alcohol induced confessions that she had finally pieced together what had happened- Angels and Demons and just how close the world had come to absolute destruction. And how, in the end, the only reason that it hadn't was because Deans younger brother Sam had sacrificed himself, throwing himself into Hell along with the Devil.

She couldn't wrap her head around the enormity of that- couldn't comprehend that type of loss, or why, after everything that had happened to him, Dean had decided to tie himself to her.

It was the least that she could do to try and make sure that her messed up family didn't destroy the fragile happiness that he had built for himself here.

She tightened her grip on his hand. It was just one dinner. They would be okay.

Beth's husband Jeff was in many ways the polar opposite of his wife. While she was bright colors and scandalous gossip he was neutral earth tones and dry small talk. Their marriage seemed to have been built on the two of them completely ignoring each others existence.

"Did you know that there has been a sharp spike in sinkholes this past year?" Jeff was a geologist and talked about little else other then his work. "No one knows exactly why, though I suspect it is because of the recent increase in natural gas drilling."  
"Yeah, probably." Dean agreed, clearly having lost interest in the conversation long ago.

"Of course it's entirely possible that there's another explanation entirely- A shift in the tectonic plates, for example, could have easily-"

He never got to finish his sentence as that was the precise moment that the sky split open.

There was an ear peircing shriek-it filled the air completely, vibrating through Lisas bones, inside of her head, pushing against the confines of her skull. It was unlike anything she had ever heard- it felt almost as if the sound waves themselves were on fire.

And then, just like that, it was over.

The air smelled like autumn bonfires. Lisa blinked, ears ringing. She had fallen over somehow. She tried to push herself back up, but her arms didn't seem to want to cooperate with her. She lifted her head- the dining table was lying on its side.

_Ben. Where was Ben?_

"What just happened?" She heard someone ask- it must have been Beth, but her voice was strange, foreign. She tried to push herself back up again, felt shattered glass dig its way into her palms.

"Ben." She tried to call out, but her voice was barely audible. Someone pulled her up- it was Jeff. He had little spots of something on his khaki shirt. She blinked.

_What do you know. Even his blood is brown._

"Where is Ben?" She asked, louder this time.  
"I'm right here, Mom. I'm okay."

The relief almost floored her, but she managed to keep standing. She looked around. All the windows had been shattered- by what exactly? The table had collapsed in on itself and all the lights had been broken, but there didn't seem to be any debris in the room that had come from outside.

Outside- she couldn't quite see from where she was. But Dean was staring outside. He was staring outside and he just kept staring and that's when Lisa knew that something Very Bad was happening. Like, actual literal end of the world bad.

Unsure of what she was doing, she walked towards the window, looked up.

"Huh. The sky is falling." she said with a little laugh even as the rational part of her brain was screaming that that was not an appropriate response to the situation.

Streaking the sky in every direction were falling meteors. Her front lawn had been completely destroyed- one must have landed right there, right in front of them. If it had hit even a few meters closer- there wasn't a doubt in Lisa's mind that they would have died, all of them, right then.

"What in the Hell?" She hears Beth ask from behind her.

"Not Hell." Dean whispers. It is the first thing that he has said since the explosion. She catches his eye, and he silently directs her to the spot in her yard where the meteor hit. Only, she can see now that something is moving inside the crater.

Her first thought is '_Oh my God, are we being invaded? Have the aliens finally decided to take over?'_

Then she looks a little bit closer and notices that the supposed alien very closely resembles a woman in her early thirty's wearing business slacks and a- was that a gray sweater vest?

She looked at Dean, wondering if he had the answer to the inexplicably business-casually dressed aliens.

"What is this?"

"It's the Angels." He answered, voice grim. "They're falling."


	2. 2- Castiel

Fallen Chapter 2:

AN: So this fic was born out a whole bunch of my crazy head cannons about the power structure of Hell/Heaven, mixed with my stubborn denial to accept certain plot points within the Supernatural universe, and my obsessing about what effects changing said plot points would have within the timeline of the show, and with finding new ways to torture my favorite characters. (Castiel in particular is _really_ not going to have a fun time here. Just, you know, FYI)

So, warning for violence beyond the cannon-typical level in the chapters ahead. There will be Bad Things happening to good people because it turns out I'm a terrible person.

You're welcome.

**-CASTIEL-**

_There is a blue-white light, burning in the darkness. It is bright, so terrifyingly bright. Far too bright for something that is so cold. _

_He is falling towards it, falling fast._

_It is getting brighter. Bigger._

No.

_He tries to pull away. The light doesn't want to let him go. It pulls at him like gravity. He goes anyway._

"Vince, the 911 lady said not to try and move him."

"But he's like, twitching, Laura."

Trees.

He could see trees. Thin, dry ones, sprouting out of parched yellow grass, reaching up towards the pale blue-

There was something wrong with the sky.

"Do you think a meteor hit him?"

"I don't know, Laura. I mean, I saw one land right over here."

_A meteor? _

That seemed wrong, somehow. He stared at the sky, trying to focus his eyes, but instead the effort only made dark patches appear at the corners of his vision. He looked back at the trees instead. He could see two figures nearby, standing on a path near the trees. They looked human, but there was something wrong. He looked at them for a long time before he realized what was missing.

He could only see their forms. Just the physical shell, with no trace of the soul visible beneath it.

He had seen that sort of thing once before- after the apocalypse had miraculously not happened, there had been a brief period of time when he had felt invincible. After all, he had been _unmade_ by Lucifer only to be brought back again. For a while, be had believed that there had been a reason for that.

And so he had set out to do an impossible task- to free Sam Winchester from Lucifer's cage. He had seen Fate itself defeated once before, and was convinced that he could do it once again.

He had been wrong, of course. The thing that he had brought to life had been empty- a shell. He had destroyed it almost immediately.

A human being without a soul was a creature of pure impulse, completely without compassion or sympathy.

And now there were two of them standing less than ten feet away.

He tried to pull himself up, to stand, but found that he couldn't. He coughed, tasting dirt and dust.

"Holy shit, Laura, he's moving."

"Oh, crap. He, dude- I mean, sir or whatever- you probably shouldn't move. You've lost a lot of blood."

_Blood?_

He looked down, saw dark red splotches on the sleeves of his coat.

_How did all of that get there?_

He was having trouble thinking. He turned back to the two figures- the female one was slowly approaching. He pulled back.

"Hey, can you hear me? You need to calm down- an ambulance is on its way."

Was she trying to reassure him? He studied the girls shape, trying to puzzle her motives out of the contours of her face. He still couldn't see even a trace of her soul, but she wasn't acting the way a soulless person should. It didn't make any sense. Unless-

The weight of the realization snapped the world into sudden focus.

_The meteor. The blood!_

He grasps at the blood-stained coat, tries to pull it off. It sticks to shirt underneath it, the shirt that is no longer white.

_Please, no._

The two figures in the trees are shouting something at him, and, from very far away, he hears sirens.

_Please, no._

He manages to pull the coat off and gets to work on the shirt. He already knows what he will find underneath it, but he needs to see, needs to be sure.

Suddenly, hands are grabbing his arms, trying to stop him from moving. Men. Paramedics. He hadn't seen them arrive. And he couldn't see their souls either.

"Sir, if you do not stop moving, we are going to have to sedate you. Do you understand?"

He nods. The panic leaves him suddenly, leaving him with only the pain and a dull sense of dread. He understood. He knew what had happened to him.

He lets the men help him up onto a stretcher. They lie him on his stomach, carefully not touching his back. He can't see it, but he knows the blood must be worse there- he can feel his shirt clinging to his skin wet and heavy. As they are loading him into the ambulance, he catches a glance of the two figures that had found him. He hadn't noticed before just how young they both are- late teens at most. The boy is standing behind the girl, hand supportively on her shoulder. Both on their eyes follow him, and he sees the girl mouth something that looks like 'good luck' before the doors to the ambulance swing closed. He is suddenly very grateful that he hadn't managed to get his shirt off before the ambulance arrived. No reason that the two of them should have to see it too.

The ambulance springs to life. He can hear them cutting his shirt away. They move quickly- someone says something about "significant blood loss". He closes his eyes, and waits.

"What the Hell?" One of them asks, and at that moment, any remaining hope that Castiel had managed to hold on to is gone.

The paramedics spring into motion. One of them starts calling to "Get the Sherriff on the phone and tell her that we've got a crime scene in the goddamned forest"

Castiel ignores them. The exhaustion is hitting him now. He doesn't try and look at the scars, at the symbols that he now knows are carved into his back. He knows what they are going to look like. And he knows what they mean.

_What did I do wrong?_

It's the only real thought that he manages to have before he passes out.

Things are clearer when he wakes up again. He realizes almost instantly that he is in a hospital room. There are thick bandages covering his torso and he is attached to various machines, some of which he recognizes, and others that he doesn't.

He is not alone.

There is a woman sitting across from his bed. He can't see her soul either. He wouldn't be able to see anyone's soul ever again.

He had fallen.

There were many different ways to fall, and each one affected the angel differently. Ana had ripped out her own grace and flung herself to earth, and had become, for a time at lease, essentially human. In a way, he had experienced something similar after being cut off from heavens power during the apocalypse.

This was different. This wasn't something that replacing his grace would fix. This was permanent.

The woman seemed to notice that he was looking at her. She smiles in a way that he supposes is supposed to reassure him, but he isn't sure whether or not to trust it. He knows humans can lie to get what they want, and he has little to know experience at reading people. He tries to start with the physical facts- female, early to mid-thirties, dark skin and darker hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail. A police woman, judging from the uniform.

"Your awake- I'm officer Amy Morgan with the local sheriff's department. Are you- okay? Do you remember what happened?"

"No." He answers truthfully. He knows, logically, what must have happened, but he does not remember it. Nor does he understand why.

_What did I do wrong?_

"Well, um, best we can tell you were attacked in the woods by some kind of cultists- they carved a bunch of these weird symbols into your skin. Then for some reason they put your shirt and coat back on and dumped you in the woods. You're really lucky that those kids found you when they did- I don't want to scare you, but some of those cuts on your back went pretty deep. You lost a _lot_ of blood. According to Doctor Vasquez, you should be dead right now- but I don't think I was supposed to tell you that."

_Should be dead-_

Castiel gave a small nod, not really listening anymore. The woman continued, oblivious.

"I've got to say, you've us folks down at the station baffled. We aren't used to cases like, well, this, down here. The FBI even showed up, they're down by the path where those kids found you, looking for signs of 'cult activity'. Speaking of which, I probably should call them and let them know you're conscious."

The police woman fumbled with her phone and Castiel stared at the wall behind her. The doctors had lain him on his stomach again. The pain was gone now, replaced with a tired numbness. He regards the IVs and monitors that they have him hooked up to, and supposes that they must have given him something. He still feels relatively alert though, and is grateful for that. It takes a great deal of effort, but he manages to sit upright.

The woman immediately stops her call. "Sir, I wouldn't try to move just yet." Someone is saying something on the other end of the line. "Sorry, I've got to go. Just- get here as soon as you can" She says before hanging up.

He fingers absentmindedly at the bandages wrapped around his torso. "I need to see them. The carvings."

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"You took photographs, correct? For the investigation?"

"Well, yes, but that's not what I meant- you're in shock, you need to focus on your recovery."

"I need to see them. It is very important."

He could see that she wasn't convinced. He closed his eyes, wondering what Dean would do in this situation.

"Please, I just need to…" He paused, gathering his thoughts. "No matter how terrible the truth is, it's better than not knowing."

He wasn't entirely sure where that particular argument had come from, but the woman seemed at least somewhat convinced, and she reached into a manila folder, pulling out several photographs. "All right." She muttered. "But if it gets to be too much for you, just tell me. We don't have to do it all at once."

Castiel took one of the photos from her, examined it. The symbols had been carved purposefully, carefully. There was a sort of symmetry to the overall design, even if no individual symbol was repeated. The symbols themselves were in Enochian, and read almost exactly as he had expected them too.

_Exile._ That symbol had been carved into the skin over his left shoulder blade, while the symbol for _Fallen_ had been carved into his right. In between, just below and centered over his spine was yet another symbol.

_Forever._

He waited for the despair to hit him, and was surprised when it didn't come. Instead, there was only the distant thought of '_So that's the way it is then.'_

He touched the photo. _Forever._

The police woman was looking at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. When none came, she held out some more photos. "And these are the ones that were on your arms."

"Arms?" He looked down, noticing the bandages that were wrapped from his wrists up to his elbows for the first time. There had been blood on his sleeves, now that he thought about it. He supposed it had to have gotten there somehow. It just seemed so unnecessary. The markings on his back were more than enough to keep him from ever entering heaven again.

He took the photos hesitantly, not knowing what to expect. He looked at them, blinked. "I can't read it."

The police woman gave a weak smile. "Well, you're not the only one. No one can make heads or tails of it- it doesn't even really seem to be based on any known language. I mean, this is all Greek to me, but the FBI guys say that the stuff on your back is some sort of weird proto-Hebrew thing but that these other symbols are something else entirely, something they don't recognize. But, uh, I wouldn't worry- they sent all the images to some Linguistic experts up North, I'm sure that they'll figure it all out."

'_I doubt that._' Castiel thought, examining the pictures closer. He had heard, of course, about the Word of God, the ancient alphabet only understood by a handpicked few of Gods most trusted servants.

Who could have put it there? No one had seen or heard from Metatron since even before the Fall of Eden. An Archangel might have been able to do it, but Michael and Lucifer were both trapped in the Cage, Gabriel was dead and Raphael- Raphael had no reason to do this.

_Raphael had no reason to cast you out either, yet here you are._

His thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open and two men dressed in suits entered. One of them was extraordinarily thin. The police woman stood up. "This is agent Smith and agent Richardson from the FBI- They're just going to ask you a few questions about what happened." She smiled sympathetically before leaving the room. As soon as she was gone, one of the men- the larger of the two, shuts the door and stands in front of it. The thin man takes the chair that the police woman had been sitting in and drags it closer to Castiel's bed before sitting in it and leaning forward. Something about their demeanor makes Castiel instantly suspicious.

"My partner and I were both very surprised when we heard that you woke up." The thin man's voice is soft, almost friendly. Almost. "Considering the amount of blood we found all over that trail you were found on. It was quite a large amount, you know. I've had just a bit of medical training myself- not in any official respect of course, but I do know that all things considered, you really shouldn't even be alive right now, let alone be lucid enough to be sitting up and having a conversation. I'm sure the doctors are already calling it a miracle. But me- I don't believe in miracles."

The man leaned in closer, sitting on the very edge of the chair. "Which of course, leaves the question- what are you?"

What. Not who.

Dean had warned him, before, when he had first begun losing his powers during the apocalypse, about the way some hunters were. That, for some, it was less about what was right and wrong and more a question of human or not.

"Most hunters are pretty decent." He had said. "But some- some just want to kill. You need to be careful."

Castiel had not given the warning much attention, then. Back then, he had still had traces of his angelic power- more than enough to deal with an over enthusiastic monster hunter.

He remembered the warning now, though.

Castiel studied the thin man's figure. He certainly didn't _look _like a hunter.

"I can assure you, I mean no harm."

"Now, that really doesn't answer my question, now does it?" The man said calmly.

Castiel looked from the thin man to the larger man guarding the door and then back again. "Are the two of you hunters?"

The man laughed at that, which Castiel thought was an odd reaction. But then again, the entire situation was becoming downright bizarre. "What I am isn't what's important right now. What is important is what you are, and what you know about what happened to the sky a few hours ago."  
_There is something wrong with the sky._

Castiel remembered that he had thought that before, when he had first fallen. He hadn't been able to make sense of what the thought meant. He glanced out the window, but everything looked normal now.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

The man sighed, shaking his head slightly. "So we're going to be like this then, are we?"

He felt a slight pull on his right index finger, heard a slight disruption in the rhythmic beeping of the hospital machines. He looked back to the thin man, and saw that he had pulled plastic clip of the heart rate monitor off of Castiels finger and had attached it to his own instead.

The large man at the door gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Reid, _here_?"

The thin man, Reid, apparently, just smiled serenely. "Don't you worry- this shouldn't take too long."

Castiel glanced back and forth between the two of them, trying to puzzle out what was going on, while feeling a strangely familiar sort of panic building in his chest.

"It's really no use lying to us- we already know that you're not human, so you can go ahead and drop the act." Reid said, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a small blade. "Or do you want to see how much more blood you can lose?"  
Castiel stares at the knife in disbelief. _Really? Are we going to do this right now?_

Behind him, the machine beeped rhythmically, calmly. "So let's try again- what are you?"

Castiel stared at the man. "I've done nothing wrong."

"That_ really_ doesn't answer my question." Reid smiled, before grabbing Castiel roughly by the wrist and pulling him into some twisted version of a hug.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhh, shhh." The man whispers, and Castiel can feel the cold metal of the knife on his neck. "You know, if you cut open someone's jugular here, they can bleed out in less than a minute. It'll probably be faster with you, considering all the blood you already lost today."

Castiel can feel panic pounding at his ears, his heart rushing at a near lightning speed compared to the slow, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. He knows, with a cold certainty, that the thin man's heart rate has not increased at all during this rapidly escalating encounter.

"Come on, Reid, how are we supposed to explain that kind of blood?" Somehow, the exasperated way that the large man asks that question is even more terrifying then the knife at Castiels throat. It is as if he is complaining about a mildly annoying habit of a friend.

_That Reid and his casual, unprovoked murder._

"I'm sure you'll think of something." Reid says jovially.

He has let go of Castiels hand- not that there's much he can do with it, with the knife already so close. The thin man could cut his throat open long before Castiel could do anything about it, and then, from his best guess, he would have thirty seconds before he bled to death.

_It's just a word._

The heart monitor was still beeping that impossibly calm rhythm. Castiel looked down, say that it was attached to the hand of Reid's that was not holding the knife.

_Just a word. Give it to them, and they may let you go._

But there was a man holding a knife to his throat whose heart was beating just as calmly as if he had just woken up from a pleasant nap, and another man who acted as though this sort of behavior was the equivalent of leaving dirty socks out in the living room of a shared apartment.

He remembers what Dean told him. _Some of them just want to kill._

Castiel will not have these two be the first people he tells what has happened to him.

_Thirty seconds._ He thinks, wrapping his hand around the cord of the heart monitor. He thinks about the symbols on his back and what they mean.

_A lot can happen in thirty seconds._

He pulls on the cord, hard, and the machine flat lines. With his other hand, he grabs the man's wrist pushes it back- the man's reactions are slow, he clearly had not been expecting a fight, and he almost manages to get the knife away from his throat. Almost. As it is, the cut is not as deep as it could have been, but it is deep enough. Castiel ignores it, kicks the man's chair out from underneath him.

_29 seconds._

He clasps a hand around the wound on his neck. In his panic, he had forgotten about all of the IVs and machines he still was attached too, and his attempt to tackle the man ends with him falling clumsily onto the floor.

_25 seconds._

He ignores the pain, and reaches toward the knife in the man's hand, who jerks it away. "You're insane!" The man says, voice rising to a shout for the first time. Castiel supposes that if he had been human, that would certainly be true. But he was not human, would never be human. He knew what was on his back, and what it meant. He grinned at Reid.

_I know something you don't know._

The door busts open and he hears a man shout- "What on earth is going on here?!"

He glances over, sees a doctor with a hand clasped over his mouth in shock, and the police woman standing behind him. He can only imagine how the situation must look to them.

"These men- are not FBI agents." Castiel manages to say. He sees the police woman's eyes darting from the wound on his neck to the bloody knife in the thin man's hand. She draws her gun.

"Drop the knife!"

_15 seconds._ If he had been human, he had no doubt that he would have fallen unconscious by now. But the carvings kept him alert, aware, and while he had no doubt he would come to curse that over time, in the current situation it was a blessing. To his side, he saw the large man pulling a gun from its holster on his hip, pulling it up in what seemed like slow motion towards the police woman.

_Sam and Dean would never-_

Castiel felt offended on behalf of all hunters everywhere. He judged the distance- the room wasn't large. He might be able to make it. Some of the IVs had come detached in his failed attempt to get out of bed, but many were still attached. He pulled the rest out.

He had lost count of how many seconds he had left, but he was beginning to see darkness at the edges of his vision.

_Not yet. You are not allowed to die yet._

The large man was pointing his gun at the police woman and Castiel ran towards it. He slammed into the man's arm, knocking off the aim, saw a bullet hit harmlessly on the tile floor. He saw the doctor tackling the large man from behind, pulling the gun out of his hand, and then the world started spinning uncontrollably.

Castiel hit the floor hard, and he could see Reid writhing on the ground in pain a few meters away. It seemed that in the frenzy, the police woman had shot him in the kneecap.

_Well good for her._

He caught Reids eye. The thin man's pale eyes were wide, wild. "What- why?"

_Because I know what is carved into my back, and I know what it means. Because I know that even if I die now, it won't be for long._

The darkness comes quickly, and Castiel doesn't fight it this time.

_Forever._ The symbols had said, and that was exactly what they meant. _Forever._

Coming back to life is much more painful then he remembers it being. There is a flash of a blindingly cold, all consuming light. Then it is gone, replaced by the pain. He had known that the experience was not supposed to be pleasant, but he hadn't expected it to hurt more then the dying itself.

He coughs, tasting blood.

"Holy- the guys still alive! Somebody call the freaking doctor!"

He stares at the ceiling. The wounds on his back were screaming in agony, but he couldn't find the energy to move. Suddenly someone is hovering over him.

"There's nothing here- I mean, there's blood- a lot of blood, but no cut, not even a scratch."

"What in Gods name…"

The police woman voice rings out, authoritative. "All right everyone, clear out of the room. Doctor Vasquez, I want you to run a full check on this guy. Once you are sure that his life is not in danger, you call me, ok? The rest of you, get back to the station, and I think it goes without saying that no one breaths a _word_ of this to those psycho fake FBI agents!"

"Yes mam!"

The doctor pokes around at his neck for a while, wiping away the blood as if expecting to find the wound underneath it, muttering obscenities in both English and Spanish as the cut continued to refuse to appear. After finally seeming to accept that he indeed no longer had an open neck wound, the doctor and a nurse carefully carried him back to the bed and reattached him to the IVs and monitoring equipment. The doctor studied the machines for a time before muttering more Spanish obscenities.  
"Doctor?" One of the nurses asks, voice unsure. "How is this possible?"

"Hell if I know. Call Officer Morgan back in, maybe she can make sense out of all of this."

The nurse rushed out, and a few moments later, the policewoman walked back in. "What's wrong."

"Nothing. That's just the thing- he's perfectly fine."

"Meaning…"

"Meaning when this guy came in, he had lost about a pint of blood. It's all back now. The fever's gone too. So he's fine. Absolutely fine. Except of course that he can't be, especially considering that he was _dead_ less than a minute ago."

The policewoman looked like she wanted to protest, but the doctor held up a hand.

"He was _dead_. You saw it, I saw it. His jugular vein was sliced open and he was lying on the ground for long enough that you and the other officers were able to get those crazy fake FBI agent cultists into custody. It's been 15 minutes at least. There's no way he can still be alive, much less in better shape than when he started. There's no medical explanation for all of this!" The man sighed, running a hand over his face. "As a doctor, I hate myself for even saying this but… this is nothing short of an act of God."

Castiel felt a sudden burst of laughter at that. The two looked at him strangely for a moment. The silence that followed was broken by the policewoman's sigh. "Thanks for all your help, Doctor Vasquez. Just don't… don't tell anyone about this, all right?"

The doctor threw his hands up dramatically. "Who would I tell? Any rational person would have me locked up in an asylum!" He left the room, still muttering to himself, casting a final confused glance at Castiel as he went.

The policewoman picked the chair up from where it had fallen on the floor and practically fell into it. "Right." She whispered, rubbing her eyes. "No one would ever believe this. God, what am I going to tell the station?"

The woman appeared to be almost as exhausted as he felt. "You could say that the cut missed the vein, that the amount of blood simply appeared worse than it really was."

The woman looked at him, blinking.

"I have been told that in certain situations, lying is the appropriate response."  
"Yeah, well, you might be right there." She leaned back. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"Castiel."  
"Castiel. Sure, why not. So are you immortal or what?"

"I suppose that I am in a way, now."  
"You know what, on second thought don't tell me. I don't think I really want to know. You know, before today, my idea of a rough shift was a couple of drunks getting into a bar fight, or some kids taking their parents Mustang out for a joy ride. I'm really not used to dealing with… whatever this is." She made a sweeping hand gesture to indicate the entire blood covered hospital room. "But I am pretty sure that_ whatever_ just happened, that you just saved my life so… thank you." She paused, clearly trying to think of what to say next. "Is there… anything that you need? Anything I can get you?"  
Castiel considered the question for a moment. "Could I borrow your phone? There's someone I need to call."


	3. 3- Dean

Fallen: Chapter Three

AN: For those of you wondering, don't worry, I have no intentions of leaving Sam in Hell. In fact, I'm pretty sure the next chapter is going to be in Sam's POV, so we should all see what he's doing soon. (This fics focus seems to be jumping all over the place the more I work on it- I thought that I had the whole thing pretty well planned out, but I'm starting to suspect that I'm going to be as much surprised by whatever happens as the rest of you.)

So for now….

**DEAN**

The news feed kept replaying that same goddamned shaky handheld recording of one of the 'meteors' crashing into a gas station before promptly exploding into a bright orange fireball as the anchors tried to find new ways to string the words 'Deadly, Global, Unexplained, and Catastrophe' together in a sentence.

Dean couldn't watch. He kept thinking back to the 'business casual angel', as Lisa had called her, who had landed in their front lawn. She had been disoriented and angry, but otherwise unhurt. Overall, she had appeared to be just as confused by the sudden downpour of angels as the rest of them.

He had asked her if she still had contact with Angel Radio, and she had seemed almost offended by the question. "You mean the Network? Of course I do."

"Great, then you can try and contact Cas, can't you? Maybe he knows what the Hell is going on."

She had looked at him with blank confusion. "Castiel? Why would he know anything?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because he's supposed to be _running Heaven _right now?"

She had stared at him for a long time, expression unreadable. Then she had just started laughing. "Do you think that we would let Castiel run _anything_ after what he did?"

"What he… He helped save the damn planet!"

She glared at him. "I don't expect you to understand, Dean Winchester. You humans have always been short-sighted creatures. But this world was _supposed_ to end. That was what Fate had decided. Did you really think that Fate could be defied without consequence?" She looked up, contemplating the sky that was still raining down angels. "This must be our punishment- we were tasked with carrying out Gods plan, and we failed. Because of _you_ we failed."

He had almost expected her to attack him then, but instead she had just stood up and walked off. Leaving him with several shocked and confused civilians and a wrecked dining room. He wished that she had attacked him. He knew how to deal with attacking. He didn't know how to deal with- with whatever this was.

The angels had stopped falling over an hour ago, and Lisa and her family were huddled around the TV, watching coverage of the so-called 'Global Meteor Shower'. And the goddamned news kept showing that footage of the exploding gas station over and over…

_Welcome to Earth. Enjoy your short but extremely painful stay._

He tried to call Cas and got sent strait to voicemail, the same way that he had a few months back after he had far too much to drink and had just wanted to talk to _somebody_ that he didn't have to explain himself too. He had been about to call Bobby but had thankfully been sober enough to realize that it was two in the morning, and while Bobby always picked up he wasn't about to wake the man up just so he could cry at him over the phone. So instead, he had called Castiel- and Cas hadn't picked up.

The next morning, it had seemed obvious that he wouldn't- the dude had gotten his angel mojo back after all, he probably hadn't even kept the phone. And besides, he was supposed to be busy, running heaven and all.

Except now it seemed that he really _hadn't _been. Dean wondered how many other angels hated Castiel after the Apocalypse. He wondered how many more hated him now. He wondered what would happen if any of them found him before Dean did.

He tried calling again. Nothing. He probably really _hadn't_ kept the phone, the more Dean thought about it. But there was really nothing else that he could do. Cas could have landed in Mexico, or China, or the _Ocean_.

He forced himself to stop that particular chain of thought.

He hated this. He hated not knowing what to do even though there was clearly some sort of case going on. He hated how miserable he felt, even though he had promised Sam that he would be happy. And he hated the claustrophobic feeling of trapped helplessness that had gradually been building ever sense he saw his brother jump into the Pit.

"You all right?"

He jumped. His reflexes must have really gone to crap if Lisa was able to sneak up on him without even meaning to.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I just- I feel like I should be doing something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know… "

"Did you manage to contact your angel friend?"

"No, he hasn't been answering. But Bobby says he'll put some feelers out, see if anyone's seen him."

"I'm sure that he'll be okay."

"Yeah. I mean, he's a tough guy. He's survived being blown up twice, I'm sure he'll manage."

Lisa didn't press, or ask questions. He knew she must have wanted too- she must have been so confused about half the stuff that he said, but she always seemed to sense when he didn't want to talk about something, and never pried into something he wasn't comfortable sharing. The woman deserved some kind of medal for the crap that she put up with.

Just then, his phone started to ring.

It was from an unknown number, so he didn't realize that it was Castiel until he heard the familiar greeting. "Hello, Dean. I'm sorry for calling, I know that I'm not supposed to, but I need a favor."

"Cas? What the Hell, man, where are you?"  
"A hospital."

"A hospital? Are you okay?"

"Yes. Well- I am now. There was an incident, but there's nothing to worry about now."

"What kind of incident?"

"Some hunters found me- the kind that that you warned me about. But don't worry. The situation has been resolved. Although… the amount of blood on the floor is somewhat excessive."

"Holy crap, did you kill them?"  
"No, the hunters were both arrested. It seems that the police officers are under the false impression that the two of them are some kind of cultists- which, given the information that they have, is actually a fairly reasonable assumption. But that's not why I called. There's something I need to tell you" Cas paused, as if struggling to find the words. "Dean, I fell."

Dean looked over to the TV, which had switched to a new video of one of those so called meteors crashing into a swimming pool in Mexico. "No way, really?"  
Cas didn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm. "I'm not sure why- I must have done something wrong, though I can't seem to remember what. The shock of the fall seems to have left a small gap in my memory. But that's not why I called-"

Something was weird about the way Cas was talking. It was almost like he thought that he was the only one who fell. "Cas. Turn on the TV."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's not just you, allright? Angels are falling all over the world- one of them landed in my front lawn!"

Cas was silent for a long time. Dean heard the faint sounds of movement over the phone, followed by the distant sound of the television. Then, nothing. Dean looked over to the TV which was showing no less than fourteen falling angels lighting up the night sky over somewhere in Europe. He wondered if Cas had switched to the same channel. As the silence stretches on, he wonders if maybe he should have tried to break the news just a bit easier.

"But- how?"

"I have no idea, man- I was hoping that you knew."

"No, I- I've never seen anything like this before. This- it shouldn't even be possible."

"Look, whatever's going on, we'll figure it out, okay. Where are you? I'll pick you up."

"You don't have to do that."  
Dean looked over to the Braedon family crowded around the TV. Lisa has walked off to the side, giving him space. He hated himself for needing it.

"No, I really do. I hate just sitting here on my ass while something this big is going down. I need to do _something_. So- where did you land."

"I'm not sure. Give me a minute." There was an awkward fumbling sound and then, "San Angelo, Texas. That's fairly far, isn't it?"  
"Hey, at least it's still in America. I'll be there by tomorrow."

"All right. And Dean- that gun that you have, the Colt- Do you still have it?"  
"It's at Bobbys, why?"

"I was just wondering."

Cas hung up.

Dean stared at the phone in befuddlement, and then looked back up to the TV. Lisa was looking at him expectantly. He suddenly realized that he was about to dip out of Thanksgiving dinner in the middle of a global crisis.

_Now how to explain this-_

"Hey, I need to go pick up Cas- he's in a hospital in Texas."

"He's your angel friend, right? Is he okay?

He thought about the question. "I don't know. I get the feeling something's wrong. Something besides- whatever's happening. It uh- It might take a couple of days. Is that okay? If I go get him?"

"Hey, you've got to do what you've got to do." She looked over to her sister, who's bleached hair was still covered in dust. "I'd say that this dinner is pretty screwed anyway. I'll figure out something to tell them.

"You should be pissed. Why are you not angry?"

"Your friend is in trouble and you want to go help him. That is a perfectly normal response. Go help him. Just- come back, okay?"  
Dean nodded, saw Lisa attempting to smile.

"Do you want some turkey for the road? I mean, the stuff in the dining room is covered in glass and bits of drywall, but there's some more in the kitchen that should still be edible."  
"That would be awesome actually."

_You are way too good for me._

A few minutes later, Lisa was handing him a Tupperware container full of turkey, dressing and even a few sweet potatoes.

He doesn't think that Beth and Jeff see him though Ben looks at him oddly as he disappears into the garage.

_I am a terrible person._

He pulls the tarp off of the Impala and sits in the front seat. He feels at home for the first time in months.

_I am a terrible person, but this is where I'm meant to be._

He starts the engine, feels the familiar rumbling and drives off.

Traffic is terrible all the way to Texas. All it takes is one global meteor shower, and suddenly everybody is driving like idiots. It seems like every highway is backed up from end to end, so he sticks to the back roads and manages to make pretty good time, all things considered.

He parks in front of the hospital and walks up to the front desk. "Hey, I'm looking for my friend, I think he's a patient here."

"Name?"

Dean hesitates- had Cas used a fake name? But it was too late to worry about it now. "It's, uh- Castiel."

The girl at the front desk raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment, and starts typing. "Room 256."

"All right. Thank you."

The girl doesn't answer, and starts playing on her phone as soon as he walks away.

Inside the room, he finds Cas watching the news. "There have been no new reports of any instances since yesterday. That is very good news."

"Yeah." He muttered. Cas looked- pretty terrible, actually. His arms and chest were wrapped in bandages, his skin was even paler then usual and he looked like he hadn't slept at all last night. And there was something weird about the way he was sitting. He had lost that ridged, perfect posture that Dean had become used to and instead was almost hunched over. But by far the strangest part was how Castiel seemed to be actually _avoiding_ eye contact. The whole thing was downright _surreal._

Castiel nodded, eyes focusing on the TV. "Yes. We'll need to wait a few days to be sure, but judging from the footage I've seen so far, the other angels were merely cast out of Heaven- similar to how I was during the Apocalypse. Which is very good news. I was afraid that you would run out of bullets."

"Bullets? Wait, is that why you wanted to make sure that we still had the Colt? Where you going to _shoot_ the other angels?"

"I don't believe that will be necessary anymore. I doubt that the others will do anything drastic out of fear of falling further. The human casualties should be minimal."

"Human casualties? What?"

Castiel was still avoiding his eyes and it was starting to piss him off. "I've seen what can happen. Falling- it's not exactly a common form of punishment but it does happen. There is something of a – tiered system to the process. There are four- I suppose you can call them levels, of the Fallen. When an angel falls to one of the- lower levels, they have a tendency to become rather violent in their desperation. When my sister Belial Fell, she buried an entire city under hot magma before we finally were able to seal her into Hell. And with the sheer numbers of angels that have fallen… we are very fortunate that they have not fallen into one of those lower levels. "  
Dean looked at the TV, tried to imagine each one of the fallen angels as a city-destroying death machine. "Yeah, that would have been bad."

Castiel was staring out the window now. "As it stands, I expect that the situation might actually be beneficial. They will all be desperately trying to regain their place in heaven. I suspect that you might see a significant increase in miracle cures in the near future."

Something was bugging Dean about the way Cas was talking. He kept saying 'they' whenever he mentioned the angels. Like he didn't think that he was one of them anymore.

"Cas, what's going on with you?"

Castiel was looking at the floor now. "I think I must have done something wrong. But I- fell differently. Further. I don't know why. I don't understand why any of this is happening."

Dean suddenly felt woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation. Sam had always been better with all of the emotion stuff. "Hey, we'll figure this out. We'll fix this."

"It can't be fixed- the others, they still have a chance but I…" Cas trailed off, apparently struggling to find the words. "I've seen what happens. The angels that fall like this-we call them Watchers- they don't get better. They are permanently cut off from Heavens power, and are never allowed back into Heaven again. "

"So your basically human now?"

Cas looked to a blank wall. "Almost, for the moment- apart from the immortality of course."

_Wait, what?_

"Immortality? You mean you can't die?"

"I am very capable of dying, just not of staying dead."

"Still, that's pretty cool."

Castiel looked at him like he was an imbecile. " It is not _cool_, Dean. I will experience the pain of death again and again until the end of time. You of all people should know that death is not a pleasant experience."

"Can't you just… be careful?"

Castiel, if anything, looked even more frustrated. "Yes, Dean, I'll just be very careful. I am sure that that will stop the aging process."

"You're still going to_ age_?"

"Up until the point of death, which will cause everything to reset and the process begins again, yes. It repeats and repeats, until eventually…" Castiel suddenly stopped, and became very interested in his own hands.

"Eventually what?"

"There is… a ritual that a fallen angel can use to choose to fall further. To the lowest level."

"Which is…?"  
"Hell."

Dean blinked. "What the- why would anyone ever _choose_ to go there?"

Castiel picked at the dirt underneath his fingernails. "Many consider it to be an improvement to Earth- I'm told that a fallen angel enjoys a certain degree of… status there. Some choose to fall right away." Castiel paused, still looking at his hands. "It happens every time. The other angels would sometimes place bets on how long a Watcher would last before… breaking. The current record is 3,722 years- though had he been given a choice, I believe that he would have given up much sooner. He was trapped in an earthquake and buried alive for much of that time, unable to move enough to complete the ritual. But he screamed- as much as he was able to. Eventually, one of my sisters performed the ritual for him."

_Holy shit._

Castiel's behavior suddenly seemed way too calm for someone that had only recently found themselves in this situation. He looked dead tired, and was still avoiding Deans gaze, but otherwise seemed to be relatively unfazed by the strikingly bleak future he was now faced with.

A growing sense of unease settled in Deans gut, before his brain could logically piece together what was wrong. It was something Cas had said earlier-

Cas had turned to look out the window, eyes tracing the paths of distant birds.

_I was afraid that you would run out of bullets._

"Cas- what exactly are you planning on doing?"

Castiel didn't answer- not right away. Then, quietly, he said "I've seen what happens, Dean. With Belial and all the others- I know what's waiting for me. What I'm going to become. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Damn it, Cas, you won't! I know you, all right, and you are _not_ going to bury any cities in magma! Why would you even think that?"

Castiel didn't answer. He just kept looking at the floor.

"Damn it Cas, look at me! Do you see what's happening out there? Somebody did that- maybe we don't know who or how yet, but somebody is responsible! So you fell differently- what if there was a reason for that? Maybe you knew something that no one else did, or you got into a fight with whoever decided to throw the angels out of Heaven. There has got to be some sort of explanation! So all we need to do is figure out what happened, find some way of fixing it. They'll let you back in. They'll have to."

Castiel looked up. "Dean it's- it's never happened."

Dean smiled. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

To be continued…

This thing is going to be long if I ever miraculously finish it.

Reviews are appreciated.


	4. 4- Sam

Fallen Chapter 4

AN: Hey all, I edited the end of the last chapter a bit so that it included a bit more important info about fallen angels

Also, the Sam chapters are not really going to directly connect to the rest of the story for a while, but they do provide a lot of important world-building background stuff, and I'm planning on connecting all the narratives eventually (that is, if by some miracle I make it to the end of this thing.)

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for…Sam's Adventures in Monster-land!

**SAM**

Lucifers cage was different from Hell- or at the very least, it was different from what Sam had always imagined Hell to be like. Lucifer was similar in many ways to a bored and petulant child, who's favorite method of entertainment was less fire and brimstone and more exceedingly cruel mind games. He could create entire false worlds, construct ridiculously elaborate illusions designed solely to screw around with Sam's head. And he falls for it, every time.

He'll wake up, time and time again, in some new scenario where he has somehow been rescued. He _knows_ that it's not real, but as the days, months, years go on he finds himself starting to believe that maybe this time, it's real. Lucifer is nothing if not patient. He always waits until Sam is nice and comfortable before pulling the rug out from under him.

This new scenario is different, but Sam knows that in the end the game is always the same.

But still, points for creativity this time. The vampires are a nice touch too.

Sam had come to in the middle of a massive, dense forest, surrounded by the sounds of hungry animals.

"Well this is different." He muttered, looking around. He had wondered aimlessly through the trees and thick underbrush before stumbling into a clearing, where a group of vampires were devouring some small whimpering creature. They had all stared at him, as though they were as baffled by his sudden appearance as he was of theirs.

"This is definitely different." He mutters again, before running for his life.

It _was_ different. Before, Lucifer had always started his scenarios somewhere that Sam had felt safe. Sam guessed he was trying to be less predictable now.

He ducked behind a tree, took a moment to assess the situation. So, three vampires were chasing him through some forest, and he had no weapons to speak of. _So this is how it's going to be this time, huh? _This was- way too simple, really.

He grabbed a rock. _Let's get this over with._

One of the vampires came barreling through the trees and Sam lunged. As far as weapons go, rocks were not really all too effective against vampires, but he manages to get a few decent hits in before he is pinned to the ground. Which really leaves him with no other option but to wait and see what happens next.

"A human- how did he get here?" One of the vampires mutters.

"We should take him to the boss."  
"Are you crazy? If we tell the boss about this, we're not even going to get a taste. I say we drain him now, and just let Mr. Anger Issues be none the wiser."

The three started arguing, and Sam couldn't help but scoff at how generic all of this was.

_Really, Lucifer? Is this the best that you can do? This is disappointing._

The vampires kept bickering. "If we toss the shell to the Old Ones, then he'll never know!" One of them shouted.

This was getting boring. From where he was pinned on the ground, Sam could turn his head and see the forest- there was something in there. Something moving. Something big.

Suddenly, a massive furry shape lunged onto the vampires, tearing through them like they were made of paper. Sam scrambled up as the pressure on top of him was suddenly released and looked up, brain struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

It was a wolf. Only it _couldn't_ be a wolf, because it was the size of a horse.

He saw that the vampire who had been holding him down was flailing around inside the jaws of the giant beast, pounding uselessly at its teeth, trying to free himself from them. The other two vampires were fleeing into the forest, both their planned meal and their friend apparently forgotten. He heard a deafening crack, as the wolf clamped its jaws shut tight and the vampire let out a final cry before suddenly going slack.

"All right, now I'm impressed." Sam muttered. Some part of his brain is saying that he probably should be running right now, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the scene. The wolf was holding the vampires body and clamped its jaws around his neck. The vampires head came off in a mess of blood and sinew. It was one of the most singularly violent things that Sam had ever seen, and considering his life, that was saying quite a lot. But somehow, Sam found himself watching the whole thing with a detached fascination.

Once the head had been detached completely, the wolf looked at him.

_I really should be running._

He didn't run, but the wolf didn't attack either.

And that's when things started to get _really_ weird.

The wolf seemed to melt away, bones bending in at odd angles and large patches of fur fell off in clumps onto the forest floor.

Sam blinked, and then suddenly, the wolf wasn't a wolf anymore.

"It's been a while Sam."

"_Madison?!"_

She was thinner then he remembered, sharper, made of bone and muscle and not much else. Her hair was matted down with mud and blood was running from her mouth and dripping down her chin.

"You look… different."

She didn't seem at all offended. "Well, so do you. Taller, I think." She shrugged. "Or maybe it's something else. Time changes people."

"Yeah, I'd say." He looked at the blood on her chin. "You just… ripped a vampires head off with your teeth."

She rubbed her chin with a thumb, not looking at all concerned. "Yeah, sharpest thing around. Don't worry, their blood won't turn you unless your human. They taste disgusting though, so I _reall_y wouldn't recommend it unless you are seriously hungry."

"I _am_ still human."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. Sorry, we don't really see any humans here in Purgatory."

"This is Purgatory?" He looked around, seeing nothing but thick dark trees.  
"It's where us monsters go after we die. We don't belong to Hell, and Heaven won't take us, so we end up here. I guess that you're probably wondering how you got here."

Sam shrugged. It didn't matter what explanation Lucifer came up with this time, he wouldn't believe it.

Madison didn't seem to notice his apathy, and continued. "Hell- or at the very least the part of Hell that you were in, it's pretty much impossible for the angels to get either in or out of."

Sam nodded, thinking. _You're getting sloppy, Lucifer. Madison didn't know about the angels._

"But it is possible for other things to get through. Lucifer's cage- it was never meant to hold humans. That's how Eve was able to reach in and slip you past the bars."

"Who's Eve?"

"It's difficult to explain, but she's- well I guess you could say that she's our mother. The mother of all monsters. She summoned you here. And she sent me to come get you. She wants to thank you."

_The mother of all monsters wants to thank me? Sure, that sounds totally reasonable. Seriously, Lucifer, this is getting ridiculous._

Madison kept talking "That's why- In the center of this forest there is an ancient tree- you've read the bible, right? Genesis?

"Yeah, a couple times."

"Well, this is _that_ tree. The Tree of Knowledge. That's where Eve is- I'm supposed to take you there."

Sam held up a hand. "Wait just a second. Are you saying that the mother of all monsters is seriously the biblical Eve? And all that stuff with the snake and the apple all really happened?"

"Well, yeah, kind of. I mean, a lot of the story is mostly metaphor, but pretty much."

Sam couldn't help it. He laughed. "Well, all right then. Why not. You got me, I'm interested. Let's see where the rabbit hole leads this time."

Madison looked at him oddly. "You- don't believe this is real, do you?"

Sam waved a hand dismissively. "What does it matter what I believe? I already said I'd play your game. So do your worst and let's get this over with."

He started to walk into the woods, but Madison grabbed his hand sharply.

"Not _that_ way." She hissed. "Don't you see it?"

"See _what?_" He hissed back. Her nails were digging into his skin, already drawing blood.

She didn't seem to even notice. "There, past the trees? See that stone?"

He looked. He only saw trees. He looked back to Madison. She had made no moves to lessen her grip. And there was something in her eyes.

_Fear. She's afraid._

He looked again. Trees, trees, and then he saw it- something that wasn't a tree.

A thick, jagged stone pillar rose from the ground, five feet wide and at least ten feet tall. It was different from the rocks surrounding it- the stone was made of something darker, something denser.

_That is something bad._

The knowledge had appeared without reason, drawn from some evolutionary memory from back when mankind spent their nights huddled in caves, using the fires weak light to fight off the never-ending and impenetrable darkness.

_That is something bad._

"That's not really a stone, is it?"

"No." She answerd. She still hadn't let go of his hand, but he barely noticed her nails anymore.

"Then what is it?"

She was silent for a while, as if afraid to answer. "They don't really have a name. We call them the Old Ones. They've always been here. Even before Eve."  
"I thought you said that Eve created all the monsters."

"All the one's that used to be human, yes. But those things have never been human- they've just always _been. _They don't hunt like we do- they just wait. Wait until someone gets too close."

Sam shuddered. The thing that looked like a rock but wasn't a rock blended in perfectly with the trees. It was easy to see how someone might wonder too close if they weren't paying attention. And then- what would happen? Would the stone suddenly come alive, like a giant golem?

He didn't want to find out.

She dragged him to one side. "We need to get out of here."

He didn't argue, following her into the forest.

The further away they got from the thing, the better he felt. Madison had finally let go of his arm, looking only somewhat embarrassed to find that she had left open wounds on it.

"Sorry." She muttered. "It's easy to forget, here, how much weaker normal humans are."

He studied her back as they walked. The way that she was walking was strange. She practically glided over the dried leaves beneath them. Sam had been trained in stealth since he was a child, but she was making him look like a lumbering idiot. He briefly tried to copy her gait, but only succeeded in making even more noise.

Suddenly, Madison stopped, and sniffed the air. "Crap." She muttered.

"What?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. There was a blur of movement as something leapt from the trees and latched onto her back.

It was only then that Sam saw them- Vampires. A whole pack of them, hiding up in the trees.

_Looks like the one that got away called backup._

Madison had fallen to the ground in a twitching mess. Something was sticking out of her back- it looked like the fang of some prehistoric creature.

The vampire that had attacked her spoke, and Sam's stomach dropped.

"I hate werewolves. It's not like you can find silver in this God-forsaken forest. But I'm nothing if not resourceful." Gordon Walker stood up, ripping the giant fang out of Madison's back and holding it like a dagger. "Basilisk venom. Kills most everything, slowly and painfully. And considering how we parted ways last time we met, Sam- I'm itching to have you try it out."

There were at least five more vampires still in the trees, and three others beside Gordon on the ground, blocking the path forward. Madison was a twitching mess on the ground. None of the vampires seemed eager to approach her.

_Blood is probably poisoned. But I'll have to take care of these guys pretty fast if I want to be able to save her._

A frenzied, half-formed plan began to form in his head.

He turned around, and ran.

Gordon and his vampires followed like he knew that they would. They were fast, so he needed to be faster. He retraced his and Madison paths through the forest, weaving between trees and through bushes at top speed.

He spotted it just in time.

Gordon had looped ahead of him, stood at the bottom of the hill in front of him, grinning hungrily. The rest of the vampires gathered around edging closer. Sam stood by a thick, old looking tree and picked up a rock.

Gordon seemed amused. "What exactly are you planning on doing with that?"

_Please let this work._

He threw. The rock sailed over Gordon's head. Gordon looked up as it passed, confused. Then he started to laugh. "You lose your aim in these past few years?"

There was a sudden deep rumbling sound, and all the vampires' eyes suddenly went wide with fear.

"I wasn't aiming for you." Sam said. "And that thing behind you isn't a tree."

Gordon looked back and let out a sound, a primal noise that couldn't even really be called a scream.

The ground below them rumbled, and Sam kept his gaze on the stone pillar.

Then, suddenly, Sam was thrown against the tree. He looked around to see who had pushed him, but there was no one there. He saw the vampires around him desperately trying to get away, and then gravity seemed to shift sideways. Sam gripped the tree, saw the vampires lose their footing and stumble towards the stone. The angle of the hill was changing, he realized suddenly, becoming steeper. The vampires fell down the hill, and then _past_ the stone. Sam tightened his grip on the tree branch, stretching his head to one side and looking down.

It took a moment for his brain to process what he was seeing. The earth itself had opened up, forming a massive crevice about fifty meters past the stone. The hill around it was becoming steeper and steeper.

It was then that he saw it- another stone pillar, to the right of the first one, and then another. There was a circle of them, surrounding the crevice. From where he was clinging to the tree, still above the growing hole, he finally saw it.

The creature, the Old One- it wasn't the stone pillar. It was the earth itself, this valley was its mouth, and the stone pillar was one of its teeth.

The circles of pillars closed around each other, and Sam heard a chorus of panicked screams followed by a wet crunching sound.

Sam closed his eyes, trying, unsuccessfully, not to think about it.

Gradually, the landscape began to shift back, and soon, there was nothing to indicate that the area ahead was anything other than a valley except for the massive stone pillars surrounding it.

It took a long time for him to finally convince himself to let go of the tree, and when he did, he started running away from this place as fast as he could.

To be continued…

Okay, that chapter was fun. Hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did.


	5. 5- Lisa

Fallen Chapter 5

AN: This fic has been fun to write, though sometimes I worry about it being entirely incomprehensible to anyone except me. And also, the fact that we are quickly approaching 15000 words and still haven't really gotten to the what I consider to be the main point of the story is somewhat worrying. Especially considering my bad habit of dropping fics in the middle and never continuing them. But hopefully I manage to somehow stick it through to the end this time- if I do, I'm already pretty sure that this will end up being the longest thing that I've ever written. Hopefully I'll make it.

Anyway, lets get started:

**LISA**

"If you ask me, it's the government."

Lisa hadn't asked. "The government." She said slowly, casting a quick glance inside the pharmacy, and then back to the strange man that had suddenly started talking to her. He was pointing dramatically to the wall of display TVs which were repeating some new footage of the angels falling over China.

"This so-called meteor shower. It's obvious that it's a government cover-up."

Lisa suddenly wishing that the pharmacist would hurry up with her prescription. These past few days, the collective IQ of everyone around her seemed to have dropped to that of a particularly dull and overly paranoid middle school student.

The man didn't seem to be discouraged in her obvious lack of interest in his crazy theories. "It's all online- the government has been spying on people for years now, they know who to target, who doesn't fit within their 'system'. Those 'meteors' were actually precision missiles, designed to eliminate potential threats. Did you hear about how pretty much none of them landed in the oceans? No way was that natural!"

"Mm-hm." Lisa said, no longer listening. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text message from Dean: _Found Cas. Be back in 6 hours._

She texted back: _Is he ok?_

The pharmacist handed her the prescription, and she hurried off, the conspiracy theorists ranting dying down behind her. Her phone buzzed again: _Not really. I'll explain later._

Well_ that_ didn't sound good. Dean hardly ever admitted when things were wrong, seeming to believe that if he ignored his problems for long enough that they would eventually go away. Whatever had happened was probably really bad.

She looked around the supermarket, feeling once again completely out of her depth.

She took a deep breath. _You don't need to tackle this all at once. Identify the problems, and take care of them one at a time._

The first thing that she knew was that knowing Dean, the closest thing to food that either of them would eat the entire drive up here was gas station hot dogs and cheap fast food. They were going to need something a bit more substantial when they got back. She would start with that. Then she was going to set up the futon and get the quilts down from the attic.

She bought herself what she needed, and got started.

Lisa wasn't really sure what she had expected when it came time to finally meet the angel Castiel, but whatever it was this wasn't it.

She should have known, considering her brief experience with the business-casual dressed angel that had crash landed in her front lawn that angels just looked like normal people, but she still found herself surprised by the lack of wings and halo. Lisa had never really been an overly religious person, but the idea of what an actual angel was supposed to look like had been so deeply ingrained in her head that she had been expecting something a bit more- otherworldly.

She knew about Castiel. He was present in the few stories that Dean told about what happened during the apocalypse, and she knew how he had been the one to pull Dean out of Hell, that he had stood up against the entirety of the Heavenly host and apparently at one point molotoved an Archangel.

_He seems tired._

The thought didn't really adequately describe it. It looked like a bone-deep weariness had settled in and drained the angel (or was it former angel now?) of all color. The outfit wasn't really helping much either. Dean had at least had the good sense to grab an extra set of cloths before he rushed off, so at the very least Castiel was no longer wearing his hospital gown, but it looked like Dean had grabbed the outfit entirely at random from the clothes littering the floor of his closet, and the resulting combination did Castiel very few favors.

Castiel is wearing a faded cotton Tshirt that is a just slightly too big for him over grey sweatpants.

She actually remembers buying Dean those pants. It had been during one of her more recent ill-advised and unsuccessful attempts to get Dean out of the depression that he refused to acknowledge that he was in. She had gotten him a membership at the gym that she worked at, and had gone on something of a spending spree, buying him all kinds workout cloths. Dean had actually gone to the gym maybe three times, so for the most part the sweatpants had been crumpled up in the closet for the past month. And now, even though for all intents and purposes they were brand new, they looked old and wrinkled.

The only part of the angel that didn't look grey were the crisp white bandages that covered practically his entire arms and peeked out from under the color of his shirt.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience. I told Dean that he should take me to Bobbys, but he insisted that we come here."

"Well it's not a problem to me. Any friend of Deans is a friend of mine."  
Castiel nodded solemnly. "Thank you."

"Like I said, not a problem. Thank _you_ for, you know, helping to save the world and all."

Castiel almost smiles at that. "I didn't really do all that much to help. It was Dean and Sam who averted the apocalypse."

Dean coughs awkwardly at that and pushes Castiel inside the door. Once inside, Castiel stands awkwardly, looking around the living room as if hoping to find instructions on what to do next written on the furniture somewhere.

"I set up the futon in the guest room if you want to lie down."

"No, I'm perfectly fine."

_Oh my God, he's even worse then Dean._

Dean chimes in. "No man, she's right, you need to rest. Us humans , we need to sleep."

"I'm not human." Castiel huffs indignantly but doesn't argue any more then that, climbing onto the bed and under the quilts.

"Now get some sleep." Dean calls, closing the guestrooms door.

_Dean looks tired too._ She thought. _Tired and worried._

"I'm sorry for this." He says, voice low. "Sorry for bringing him here. I was going to take him to Bobbys, but- right now, I don't think that's the best idea. Not until I can at least get him to believe that he can get better."

Even though Lisa doesn't really understand, she nods anyway. "He can stay as long as he likes. I really don't mind."

She can tell that Dean doesn't believe her.

He sighs. "Why do you put up with all of this?" He makes a sweeping hand motion, gesturing towards himself. He's asked this question before, many times, and he's never believed any of her answers. She doesn't know what to say this time, doesn't know how to explain that he's worth it and make him believe it. Instead, she pulls him into a hug. He breaks out of it sooner then she would like, the same way that he does every time things become too 'emotional'.

She lets him go.

"Dean, I need to know what's going on."

Dean explains the situation as best as he can, though Lisa only really understands every other word of it.

"So basically, we don't know who cast the angels out, or how, or why. Castiel doesn't seem to remember much, but we do know that he was specifically targeted for some reason."

Dean seemed to think for a moment. "Yeah, I actually have a theory about that."

"Really?" Lisa asked. "Who do you think did it?"

"Raphael."

Lisa blinked. "The renaissance painter or the ninja turtle?"

"The archangel. I only met him once, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did something like this."

"Why would an Archangel cast the angels out of Heaven?"

"Well, I think it might actually be some sort of forced group suicide."

"What?" Lisa asked, confused.

"Well, the way Cas was talking about it, when an angel falls- not like Cas, but like all the others, they become mortal. And that when they die, they just- stop. They don't become ghosts, they don't go back to Heaven, they just…flicker out of existence. I don't really get why- Cas said it was something about angels not having souls." Dean paused, thinking. "Anyway, like I said, I only met Raphael once, but during that time he said that he was helping bring about the Apocalypse because he was 'tired'. That he 'just wanted it to be over'. So, yeah- after the Apocalypse didn't happen, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried something like this. And I wouldn't be surprised that he singled Cas out for the sucky type of immortality either- He's pissed at Cas after he trapped him in a circle of holy fire during the Apocalypse."

"That does actually make a lot of sense." Lisa said.

Dean looked down. "I'm going to need to call Bobby- see what the hunting network knows, and get him to hide the Colt from Cas …" Dean trailed off, as though realizing that he had said something that he shouldn't have. "And then I'm going to track Raphael down. He's got to be down here somewhere."

Lisa nodded. "In the meantime, I'll get Castiel some new cloths."

Dean looked up, suddenly. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

It was Thursday, so the stores were all reasonably empty, but even so, Castiel looked overly self conscious as they walked in through the front doors.

"So is there any particular style that you like? I mean, I remember Dean saying something about a trench coat that you would always wear…"

"Technically, it was an overcoat."

"Well, all right- Either way it's probably a good idea to get a new one. It's going to get pretty cold pretty soon around here."

"You really don't have to." Castiel said, for what was probably the hundredth time. "I'm perfectly fine in this."

Lisa gave Castiel a look. "You can't keep wearing Deans cloths forever, you know."

Castiel looked down. He had fortunately changed out of the sweat pants, but the new outfit really didn't fit much better. Which was odd really, considering that the former angel looked to be more or less Deans size.

Castiel nodded, oddly solemn. "I understand. That would be inconvenient. I will return this clothing to Dean as soon as I can."

_What the Hell, that wasn't what I meant._

The fact that he thought she was concerned about an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt was so bizarre that she was taken aback, and was left staring at his serious expression.

"No- what I meant was… don't you want to be able to wear your own cloths again?"

Castiel seemed suddenly confused. "Angels do not own cloths."

Now it was Lisas turn to be confused. "But- what were you wearing before then?"  
"Those were the cloths of my vessel. They did not belong to me. Angels do not own things."

"Seriously? You've never owned _anything_?"  
"There was never a need for personal possessions in Heaven."

Something about the way he said that made Lisa feel- sad, somehow. It didn't really make sense- after all it wasn't like all the little nick-knacks that she had scattered around the house really made her _happy_, but the idea of not having anything that you could call your own, of having nothing that is _yours_, felt wrong on some fundamental level.

"Well," she said, suddenly awkward. "You're human now, and humans need human things."

"I'm not really human." Castiel protested quietly as she led him to the men's clothing section. As soon as he realized that they had arrived, he looked at the racks of cloths with an expression bordering on panic. Lisa wondered just how overwhelming all of this was, watching as he cautiously approached one of the display racks before stopping and looking back nervously.

Lisa nodded encouragingly. "That's a good deal. They're on sale."

Castiel looked back, studying the shirts with an intense concentration. He picked one up, looked back at her.

"Do you like that one? Let's get it."

"Are you sure?"  
"Yes, I'm sure." Lisa said, trying hard not to sound impatient.

It took a lot of coaxing, but Lisa finally managed to get Castiel to pick out enough cloths to form a half-decent wardrobe. Castiel had balked at the register when it came time to pay, insisting that he really didn't need that much, and Lisa is convinced that had she not paid for everything as quickly as she had, he would have tried to put some of the items back. As it was he looked at the plastic bags in the cart guiltily as she loaded them into the car.

"I still do not believe it was necessary to buy this much."  
"Yes, it was entirely necessary. And it's all already paid for, so I don't want to hear another word about it."

As they are loading everything into her car, Castiel turns to her and says seriously "I will find some way of repaying you for your kindness."

"Hey, like I said before, you did kind of help save the entire world, so a couple pairs of cloths really isn't a big deal."

Castiel looked up suddenly. "There is something on your front windshield."

Lisa looked. "Huh. You're right. Probably just an ad for the new car washing place down the street."

Brightly colored flyers had been placed under the windshield wipers of all the cars in the parking lot. Castiel pulled one off of her car and studied it, face becoming oddly serious.

"What?" She asked, taking a looked at the flyer. When she saw what was printed on it, there was a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.

On bright blue construction paper, some wacko had printed:  
REPENT! JUDGEMENT DAY HAS COME AND GONE, AND NOW THE GATES OF HEAVEN HAVE BEEN CLOSED! SOON, HELL ITSELF SHALL RISE UP AND THE EARTH SHALL BE BATHED IN FIRE!

The tirade continued, in big block print down the entire page, and ending with a web address, just in case they wanted _more_ pseudo-religious doomsday ranting.

Lisa's wide variety of mental curses at whoever had placed the flyer on her windshield was interrupted as Castiel asked, voice low "Is this what people believe?"

Lisa winced. "No- I mean, there are always a few crazies who believe that the world is ending- just look at Y2K. People are coming up with all kinds of insane explanations for the 'global meteor shower'. Just yesterday, this guy at the pharmacy was talking about how the whole thing was secretly government-funded drone strikes. You can't take people like that seriously, Castiel."

Castiel did not seem remotely comforted. "This could potentially be true though."  
Lisa finds herself staring at the paper. The words HELL ITSELF SHALL RISE UP stood out in particular. "What do you mean?"

"I can't be sure- I don't have access to… Dean calls it 'Angel Radio', but it is more of a hive mind that… the point is, with the way that I fell, I can't hear the other angels anymore. So I can't be sure about the current situation. But the angels were created to preserve the universes order. Now, with the powers of Heaven absent, any number of things could happen. Other powers may attempt to fill the power vacuum."

"Demons?"  
"Potentially. More likely, something older. Purgatory could open up, or beings from beyond this dimension could begin to appear- dark, ancient beings that we always held at bay."

"So, bad things then? Got it. But if that's the case, then that's just another reason to solve this whole angel situation as soon as possible."

Castiel looked up, and Lisa saw a cold determination in his eyes. "Yes, we do."


	6. 6- Castiel

Fallen- Chapter 6

AN: This fic really seems to be jumping around a lot. I guess that's what happens when you combine like 3 different AUs into one story, it messes around with the pacing. I promise that this is all leading somewhere, though it may take a while to get us there.

Anyway, this chap is a bit more case-based- the original idea for this AU was pretty much a rewrite of the entirety of season 6, and while I think I've managed to make it pretty linear, there are a few bits that still seem like episode beats.

So let's not waste any more time:

**CASTIEL**

The attempts to discover the identity of the one who had cast the angels out of heaven had so far been disastrous. Every potential lead had turned into yet another dead end. The other angels were laying low- keeping quiet. None would answer Castiels various attempts to make contact. He had only gotten closer to another angel once since the fall, and the one encounter had been even more unsuccessful as all the failed spells to try and contact the heavenly host.

They had been extremely lucky to even find the angel, luckier still to catch him in the ring of holy fire. Castiel hated using the stuff, but it was the only way to make sure that this one didn't run like the last one had.

"Remiel" He began, trying hard to ignore the hate seething from the trapped angels eyes. "I just want to talk."  
"I have nothing to say to you." Remiel hissed. He was standing as far away from Castiel as he could, near the fiery border of the circle. It was as though he feared that Castiels condition were contagious.

"Brother, please…"

"You are no brother of mine, you abomination."

Dean stepped forward, suddenly. "Hey, watch it buddy."

Castiel motioned for Dean to stay back. He had not expected the angels to be particularly kind to him. They were all confused, angry, and in need of something to direct their anger at. He knew that, given his current status, he would be easy to be angry at.

_The Fallen. Betrayers of God that are beyond redemption. Cursed to wonder the Earth for as long as they can bear the pain, and then to Hell itself after that._

The angels had never been particularly kind to them, even before this.

The best that Castiel could have hoped for was silent pity. It became clear, very early on, that he wasn't going to get it.

Remiel sneered. "Raphael was far too kind to you- allowing you back into the host after your open defiance of God's will. He should have cast you out right then, not given you a second chance. If it hadn't been for you, this wretched world would have ended already and we would all be in Paradise. Not trapped, wingless, on this sin-soaked planet."  
Beside him, Castiel felt Dean seething. He suspected that it was only the memory of how hard this angel had been to catch that stopped Dean from stabbing Remiel right then and there.

Castiel, meanwhile, barely heard him. "You can hate me all you like. But we need to work together to find a way to restore Heaven's power."

Remiel joylessly smiled. "Do we?"

Castiel felt a sudden cold shock at the question. "Of course we do. The situation, as it stands – it is a gaping wound. The longer that it goes untreated, the worse everything will become. Soon the Demons, the Pagan Gods, and Eve's monsters will spread untreated across this world like a sickness. The angels have long been the keepers of order, and the agents of fate. It is our duty to stop that from happening."

"No." Remiel said, still smiling. "It was our job to keep this planet spinning until Judgment Day. We did our part. For billions of years we watched over this rock, waiting until the conditions became just right, until the moss and algae evolved enough to walk and talk, sacrificing everything that we had to babysit these insignificant _humans _for millennia. We could have given this planet _paradise_, created a second Eden, but you and your two human pets didn't want that. So no, we don't have to stop _crap_ anymore." He scoffed, suddenly amused. "The two of you will have no one but yourselves to blame when the demons start peeling off your skin, or when one of Eves bloodthirsty beasts is tearing you limb from limb."

Castiel can feel that Dean is very close to breaking and stabbing Remiel through the heart with the Angel blade. He knows that if he wants to convince Remiel to help- or at the very least get some information out of him, he needs to work fast.

"You will die. If you stay like this, if things remain as they are, you will fade from existence the moment that your vessel's bodily functions cease. I know that you don't want that-"

Remiels smile widens. "That's where your wrong, Castiel."

And then, suddenly, Remiel lets himself fall backwards, into the holy fire. Castiel barely has enough time to register what has happened, barely enough time to throw himself infront of Dean before Remiel bursts into flames and then explodes.

Death by holy fire is supposed to be one of the most painful ways that an angel can die. Castiel has never actually seen it happen- the closest that he came before was that Molotov that he threw at Michael. That had not been enough to kill the archangel, of course, especially since it was more of a ball of fire rather than a ring. But even then, the sound had been deafening.

This time was worse. The screeching sound seems to have physical weight, and from the flames the blue white light that is Remiels true form explodes outward, shattering everything in its path.

It hits him, burns through him, and he has just enough time to hope that whatever protection his fragile body has provided Dean is enough before blacking out.

_The light was blinding. It burned brighter than any star that Castiel had ever seen, but without any of the accompanying warmth. Rather, it seemed to be absorbing warmth, leaving the air around it as cold and lifeless as the endless, empty spaces that lay beyond the edges of the universe. It hurt to look at, hurt in a way that there weren't words to describe._

_His thoughts were fragmented, panicked. But he knew, with an absolute certainty, that he had to get away from that light, had to get as far away as he could. If he didn't, then it would swallow him whole, burn its way through him until there was nothing left._

His eyes jolt open and he lets out a sound that is far too weak to really be called a scream.

"Hey, you're okay. It's okay." There are hands on his shoulders, forcing him to keep still. Around him, there is only darkness. He can see nothing, and for a panicked moment, he thinks that he must have gone blind. But then the darkness around him begins to change, sliding into familiar colors and shapes. He blinks them into focus, tries to calm his ragged breathing.

_It's gone._ He thinks, not entirely sure what 'it' is. _It's gone, and you're safe now. Safe in the dark._

"Are you unhurt?" He asks. His vision is still blurry, and his thoughts are still disjointed. He can't quite focus on what he knows must be Deans face, can't see if there has been any damage. Just looking at an angels true form can cause a humans eyes to burn themselves out of their sockets. Castiel cannot imagine the amount of damage that would be done if a human was hit by a wave of exploding grace. But there is a smell all around him, the unmistakable smell of burning meat.

"Am I- shit, Cas, I'm fine. Are you…" Dean trails off.

Castiel blinks, and everything snaps back into focus. Every part of him feels like it has been dragged over broken glass and he understands, quite suddenly, that he must have died. Again.

"How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes. I thought- I mean, you looked like you were freaking barbequed, man. What the Hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, really."

Dean lets out a slight laugh, but it doesn't sound genuine. It sounds more like pressurized air escaping from an overheating boiler valve then actual human laughter. Castiel has the sudden mental image of Dean pulling himself back up after the blast, finding his body- _freaking barbequed – _and then having to wait, for almost half an hour as he was slowly put back together again.

"We-" Dean says, voice firm, "Are _not_ doing that again."

They had stopped trying to track down the other angels after that. Things settled into a comfortable enough pattern. They kept an eye on the news for any potential signs of demons rising, of some ominous sign of world-ending destruction and had so far found nothing. Things were quiet.

That is, until one day, Dean handed him a cutout from a newspaper.

"A bank robbery?"

Dean was grinning. "Not just any bank robbery. Look at the article."

Castiel read. It soon became clear why this article had attracted Deans attention. In addition to opening up the bank vault the robbers had apparently drained the guards and several of the tellers of all blood.

"A _vampire_ bank robbery! How cool is that? I have been _waiting_ for a case like this."

Castiel looked at the grainy photo that accompanied the article, showing police cars and ambulances surrounding the bank. "Why?"

"Why? Dude, its _vampire bank robbers._ This is the perfect chance for you to learn how to hunt. You could not ask for a better starter case."

Castiel blinked. He supposed that he saw Deans point. They had made frustratingly little progress on the whole 'angel problem'. They had been fortunate so far in that no dark force had tried to take advantage of the absence of the angels yet. But it was only a matter of time before someone did, and when that happened, Castiel could not be slowing Dean down. He nodded.

"Awesome." Dean said, still grinning.

So they had left, packing everything that they needed into the trunk of the Impala and heading out onto the road. Castiel cannot remember the last time he has seen Dean this excited about anything.

Things seem good for the first time in a long time.

So it's really only natural that everything goes terribly wrong.

"Damn it, Cas, you can't just go up to people and ask them if they saw a vampire. People are going to think that you're crazy."

"But she was in the bank when the vampires attacked. Why would she not believe us when she herself witnessed the truth?"  
"Because, man, people can convince themselves of all sorts of things if they really want to believe them. Just because someone saw something doesn't mean that they're going to believe it."

"So then what should I say? That vampires don't exist?"  
"No, just- don't say anything, okay? Let the witness fill in the blanks on their own, and then just ask for details based on what they say. Got it?"  
"I think so." Castiel muttered, looking down.

"Okay. Now just wait over here for a little while- I'll see if I can smooth things over."

Dean went back over to the witness, and started lying. The woman was clearly suspicious of him at first, but within a few minutes, she was eagerly sharing the details of what she had seen that day in the bank.

He didn't understand why he was so bad at this. Dean made it look so easy.

A few minutes later, Dean was walking back. "Okay, so this is weird- apparently the vampires didn't steal any cash at all, just the contents of one safe deposit box."

"What was in the box?"  
"No idea, but I got the address of the guy who owns it. Let's go find out."

An hour or so later, they were sitting on the couch of an extremely nervous businessman.

The man paced as he talked. "I mean, all things considered, I got off easy. They left all the cash- the bonds that I had stashed in the safe deposit box, and the stock too, not that it's worth much anymore. They just took this old coin that my grandma gave me when she died."  
"What kind of coin?" Dean asked, suddenly interested.

"I don't know. I think it was Sumerian, or Zoroastrian or something- point is it was old. I tried to find a collector a couple times- not that I wanted to sell it or anything, just to see what it was worth, but no one ever seemed to be able to pin down exactly what it was."

"Was their anything on it? A carving of some kind?"  
"There was… a tree, I think. It was pretty worn out. Like I said, it was old. But it's weird though isn't it? That that was all that they took? I mean, I heard that they didn't even open any of the other safety deposit boxes. It's almost like… they knew exactly what they were looking for. I mean, is that coin really all that valuable?"

"We'll look into it." Dean said, smiling. "Thank you, you've been a big help."

"Not a problem, detective." 

A few minutes later they were sitting in the Impala, looking at the outside of the man's apartment.

"So what do you think that we're looking at here? Cursed object? Ancient magical artifact? What do a bunch of vampires want with some old coin?"

"They may intend to use it in a ritual of some kind- or to use it to communicate with the spirit of its previous owner."

"So the vampires are trying to talk to ghosts now? Man, that is insane."  
"It's just one possible explanation Dean."

"Well, it's what I'm going with until we learn differently." Dean says, starting the car and driving off.

They end up tracking the vampires down to a massive abandoned building outside of town.

"Alberto's Meat Packing. Well that sounds nice." Dean said, reading a weather worn sign that had been painted on the side of the brick building. "You know, I've always wondered how all these monsters manage to find these places. Do you think that there's a 'Wanted: Creepy Abandoned Warehouse' section on Craigslist?"

Castiel looked at Dean "What is Craigslist?"

"It's this website- you know what, never mind, it's not important. You think we should go in?"

"That would be unwise. We still don't know how many vampires are in there."  
"Well, there's only one car, so there can't be more then like, six of them. We can probably take them."

"We don't have a plan-"

"Sure we do. Cut off their heads with machetes. Come on man, it'll be fun."

Before Castiel can say anything else, Dean has handed him a large machete and is running towards the front door, leaving Castiel with no choice but to follow him inside.

Inside was dark. Many of the windows had been haphazardly boarded up, blocking out the sun. The air was stiff, stale, and smelled like wet earth and rotting wood. Underneath that smell was something else, the unmistakable odor of blood.

Castiel blinks, allows his eyes the time to adjust to the darkness. The limits of his senses were maddeningly frustrating. How did humans live like this their entire lives?

He scans the room for any signs of movement, sees nothing. But there are at least fifteen different blind spots in this room alone that someone could be hiding in, so that does not reassure him.

Something moves, just for a moment in the corner of his eye and he spins around, sees nothing. Except- something is there. He is sure of it.

"Dean." He whispers, pointing. "This way."

At the far end of the room, against the wall, is a series of large walk in freezers. Not functional anymore, of course; they are emptied out and broken, their doors hanging off of their hinges.

All except one.

In the middle, there is one freezer that seems to be in better condition than all of the others. It's door sits firmly closed. Castiel stares at the closed door for a long time, as a strange, unexplainable feeling of terror clawed at him. The door didn't seem to be locked. That seemed wrong, somehow. Dangerous.

He approached the door, despite every instinct telling him otherwise, grasped the handle and pulled it open.

Inside is dark, dirty like all the others. But unlike the other freezers, this one isn't empty. Inside, is a girl- _just a child- _who's pale and pallid complexion sits in stark contrast to her dark, dirty surroundings. She is hanging from one of those meat hooks that are attached to the ceiling, and a long gash runs across her neck.

There is no chance at all that she is still alive. There is blood on the floor below her, but not nearly enough. Had the vampires fed on her before killing her?

_No. That's not right._

Behind him, Dean takes a sharp intake of breath. "Shit. How old do you think she was?"

_Just a child. She was just a child, how could you? You promised that you would help us-_. His internal voice suddenly no longer sounds like his own, but that of a memory that had long since been buried.

He shook the memory out of his mind. _Focus._

There was something wrong here. Something besides the morally reprehensible act that had clearly taken place. He tried to see what it was, but some sort of dam had been opened in his mind and he couldn't seem to focus on the situation at hand.

_The gash!_ He realized suddenly.

The girl hadn't been bitten- she had had her throat cut open. The vampires had saved her blood for later.

_But why?_

He didn't get much time to think about it, because at that exact moment, the vampires attacked.

_To be continued…_

(I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I'm evil)


	7. 7- Sam

AN: Yeah, so this fic is rapidly becoming more and more complicated. As much as I love this 'multiple viewpoints' thing, I'm beginning to see some of the potential problems with it. Like when you end a chapter on a cliffhanger but then for plot reasons need the next chapter to be an only tangently-related Purgatory chapter. (Sorry about this in advance)

But hey, we're finally going to see some more of the changes I made to the shows mythology, (namely, Eve and the nature of Purgatory) so that's exciting. I just get the feeling that there was so much potential about that concept that was left unexplored due to a lack of budget. Also, it always annoyed me how easily Eve was taken care of in the show (because seriously, phoenix ashes? As in the remains of a creature that she created?) I always thought she should have been a massively powerful creature of near eldritch proportions. Hopefully I managed to accurately portray that here.

**SAM**

He found Madison curled up against a rock, twitching slightly. He knew, logically, that the twitching was not a good sign, but for the moment he was just so glad that she was still alive at all that he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Madison! Are you okay?"  
Then he got closer and abruptly changed his mind. _This looks really, really bad._

Madison's hair hung in wet and tangled clumps to a face that was running with sweat. On the shoulder near where she had been stabbed, inflamed boils filled with some strange brownish-yellow pus appeared on her skin, which had become pale and otherwise colorless. Her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils were mere pinpricks.

"Holy- What should I do? What do you need me to do?"  
She grabbed his arm- her grip seemed remarkably strong, considering her condition. "Y-you…"  
Her voice was so weak that he could barely hear her. "Do you- see that rock?" She motioned to a large, jagged rock sitting against a nearby tree.  
"No." Sam said, not wanting to hear the rest of her request. "Madison, no. I am not killing you, not again."  
"Then go." She didn't even try to convince him. That made it worse, somehow. "You need- to find Eve. She can explain- she can help you."  
"Madison, I am not leaving you here to die."  
"I'm going to die anyway."

"There's got to be a cure- an antidote for the poison, something!"

"There's not. Sam it's going to be dark soon. You have to go."  
"I don't know the way!" He said, voice frantic. "Don't you get it, Madison, you have to stay alive, I don't know where I'm going otherwise."

She blinked as her fevered mind seemed to process this. "You're right. Help me up."

Sam pulled her up, wrapped her arm over his shoulders. Her skin was cold, and damp. Her eyes had fixed on something ahead.

"We need to go. We have to find Eve before something in this forest finds us."

"Right. We'll find Eve, and then she'll help you get better."  
Madison kept her eyes fixed on some vague point in the distance. "If we're going to have this conversation, then we need to have it while walking, Sam."

"She'll help you, right? I mean, you said that she was like- your mother or something. She has to care."

"Of course she cares- look, Sam, I promise, I'll tell you everything I know, just so long as you _get moving._"

"Right, of course." He started walking, following Madison's gaze into the forest.

Madison was silent for a while, giving Sam enough time to really process how ridiculous this whole situation was.

_None of this is even real._

This was all just another of Lucifer's mind games, it had to be. There was no way that he had been freed from Hell only to be summoned into some bizarre pocket dimension full of monsters where valleys ate people and Madison could turn into a gigantic wolf. The entire thing was just so unbelievable, and yet here he was, trying desperately to save the life of the decidedly not-real Madison.

"Madison- how did you do that- gigantic wolf transformation thing? I mean, I know for a fact that you couldn't do that when I- when you died."

Madison coughed slightly. "Eve- She gave me that ability when she sent me to find you. That's what she does- she makes us stronger."

"Right." It wasn't much of an explanation, but Sam supposed that it made as much sense as anything else. "So tell me- how did the Biblical Eve end up birthing a bunch of monsters?"

"Well, you know the story."

"Did she seriously eat an apple and ruin paradise?"

Madison gave a weak laugh. "No- like I said, it's a metaphor."

"A metaphor for _what_?"

"You should probably ask her." Madison said, voice solemn. "We're here."  
Sam looked around, not seeing anything.

"It's over this next hill."

Sam adjusted his grip on Madison's arm, climbing up the hill. It was steeper then it looked, and he was winded by the time that he reached the top. Then he looked down at the valley below, and felt his heart skip a beat.

Sam wasn't sure _how _he had managed to get this close before seeing it. The tree was truly massive, it's trunk spanning nearly the entire valley floor and sprouting hundreds of thick, twisting branches.

_I must have thought the branches were trees._

It was the only explanation that Sam could come up with as to why he hadn't seen the tree during his approach.

"We call it the _First Tree_." Madison said, voice reverent. "This is where it all started."

"With the apple?"

"_Metaphor,_ Sam."

"Right- I knew that. Sorry, it's just- my brain doesn't really seem to be working right now."

"It's ok. I got the same way when I first saw it. Come on, let's go?"  
"Are you sure it's okay?" Suddenly, it felt like he was trespassing on sacred ground.

"You will be fine. Like I said, Eve wants to see you."

"But why? Why does she want to see me?"

Madison gave a weak shrug. "I don't know. I didn't ask."

He walked down, feeling his sense of awe at the sheer _size_ of this tree growing with every step he took. It's bark was a deep, dark brown, and it seemed to be just so- _solid._ He didn't know how to explain the feeling, but looking at the tree felt like looking at a massive formation stone. He could tell somehow, that there was no weaknesses in this wood, no cracks or pockets of air to be found. It was rock solid, all the way through.

They got close, closer than Sam felt comfortable being to something so old.

"It was good of you to come, Sam Winchester."

Sam felt a sudden chill. The words had sounded less like a voice and more like a storm wind, or the low creaking crack of glacial ice.

There was movement, and for a brief moment, Sam was convinced that the tree itself had spoken. But then the shape separated itself from the tree, and took the form of a woman.

She seemed to be made of the same dark, stone-like wood that formed the massive tree, and the fact that she was moving with apparent ease did nothing to ease the sense of unfathomable _solidity, _of that stiff and unforgiving _presence_ that the tree had.

"I saw what you did." She continued. "Taking control of your body back from Lucifer. I was very impressed."

"Thank you." Sam said, suddenly unable to think of anything else to say. Her eyes seemed to almost glow against her dark skin. They were a clear white, with no hint of a pupil. He vaguely remembered Lilith, the first demon, and wondered suddenly if there was some connection between the two.

She came closer, much faster than Sam would have thought possible. Her white eyes stared into his, searching for something.

"You must tell me how you did it."

"Did it?" He understood what she was asking, but seemed incapable of forming a coherent response.

"You defied the angels plans for you, and instead single-handedly sealed not one, but two archangels in Hell. You must tell me how you did this."

"I-" Sam paused, remembering suddenly why he had come here in the first place. "I'm not going to tell you anything until you help my friend."

Eve blinked, and Sam hoped that he had sounded braver then he felt.

"My friend- Madison. You sent her to find me. She got hurt, poisoned. She needs help. I'm not saying anything until you help her."

Eve seemed to notice Madison for the first time. Madison had collapse the moment Sam had let go of her arm, coughing up blood. Eve looked from her, and then back to Sam. "Why have you not helped her?"

"Because I _can't_. You have to do it."

"Very well."

Sam blinked, and all of a sudden Eve was by Madison's side, resting her hands against of Madison's temples. Madison stopped coughing, and looked up with an expression of pure _relief._

Eve gave her hands a sudden twist and Madison collapsed, head bending at an odd angle.

"What did you just do?"

"I helped her die, like you wanted me to." She looked at him, eyes glowing.

"You were supposed to give her an _antidote_."  
"There is no cure for basilisk venom. It would have been a slow death otherwise. This way was easier." There wasn't a single trace of guilt or empathy in her voice.

_A monster. I'm talking to a monster._

But he had known that already, hadn't he? If what Madison had said was true, then she was the Queen of monsters. Standing still, Eve seemed to be growing from the ground like a twisted root formation, all gnarling joints stretching thin and elongated towards the sky. Her skin had an almost bark-like texture.

Suddenly, she moved, and in a blink she was right next to him. There was the smell of earth, of the stale air inside of some deep underground cavern.

"So how did you do it? How did you defeat Lucifer?"

Sam opened his mouth, closed it again. With Eve this close, it was hard for him to remember that none of this was real. Which was… strange. He had never felt like this with any of Lucifer's other hallucinations.

"It was my brother. I just didn't want to have to hurt my brother. That's all it was."

"Interesting." Eve said, white eyes searching his face for something more. Her gaze felt like thousands of crawling ants. "Do you think you could do it again?"  
"Do _what?_"

"Defeat an archangel. Do you think you could do it again?"

_Where was Lucifer even going with this?_ This entire scenario had been downright bizarre right from the beginning.

He didn't give her and answer. She didn't seem to be expecting one. "I think that you could. Given the right tools, of course. That's why I went through the trouble of pulling you out of Hell. Bringing you here was not easy. Lucifer did not want to let you go. But I was persistent. Creative. Creativity has always been something that the angels don't understand. You know this, yes?"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"I brought you here for a purpose."

"And what's that?"

"The angels. I want you to kill them."

Sam can't help it. He laughs.

"I will give you the strength that you need. And even now, my children are preparing a ritual to bring you back to the world of the living."

"Well that's nice of them." Sam can't seem to stop laughing, even as her eyes stare at him, searching for something that he can't define.

She pulls back, suddenly. "You don't think this is real, do you?"

"So what. It's never mattered what I think before, has it?"

Some undefinable expression passed over Eve's face. She moved her hand back, grabbed the back of Sam's head. Instinctively, he tries to pull back, and finds that he can't.

"The angels have toyed with you your entire life. They have tormented you after your death to the point where you now question reality. Now they are weak, vulnerable. I do not know why, but I do know that this is an opportunity that cannot be wasted."  
The bubbling, insane laughter is suddenly gone as Sam's brain shifts into full panic-mode. He is far too close to this _thing_ for his liking. He can smell rotting meat on her warm breath, and the whites of her eyes illuminates the skin of her face, revealing a rough, almost bark-like texture.  
_Monsters don't have to ask for permission._

The thought comes unbidden and runs on rapid fire repeat though his mind.

"You will return to Earth. And you will kill the angels." No part of what she says is a question. She does not try to convince him. She does not try to manipulate or threaten like a demon would, or to coldly command like an angel. She says it as though it were a property of physics, or chemistry. It was statement of fact, nothing more.

She pulled him in close, and bit down on his shoulder, right beside his neck.

_Well this is different. _He thought, before everything shifted focus.

The sensation really couldn't be described with words. It was if all of a sudden he was looking at himself from the outside. He saw the dark, thick liquid spread though his veins from where Eve had bit him. He saw the massive tree he was standing near , felt its insurmountable age in a way that he hadn't before.

It was as old as humanity- or at least as old as humanity as he understood it. This tree was the very foundation on which civilization had been built upon. _The First Tree._ The first tree to have been planted by human hands. It had been Eve that planted it, he understood suddenly, Eve that had cared for it, cultivated it.

How strange that must have seemed to the other early humans. They must have wondered why she went to all the trouble- why spend so much effort growing a tree when the forests grew just fine on their own. They regarded her and her tree an odd curiosity, and nothing more.

Thing sped forward. The images came in flashes, crystalized memories that he couldn't place the context of. It was like flipping through someone else's photo album. Some of the images had emotions attached to them

There was a memory of a man, who was different from all the others. Smarter, stronger, seemingly immune to all harm. Eve had loved him, and perhaps still did, but something had gone wrong. Someone had found out.

The memory shifted to that of a canyon bathed in red light that was cast from strange, unidentifiable symbols that burned on the canyon's walls and floors. The symbols were formed in a massive circle around the man. He was bleeding, even though he didn't seem to have any physical wounds. Around the edges of the circle were several dark, silent, emotionless figures. One of them was saying something- a spell of some sort. The fiery glow of the symbols increased in intensity and, suddenly, the earth below him opened up, and a massive column of fire burst forth from the circle. It reached up, almost to the top of the canyon, and in the flames Sam saw the sillouete of wings, burning away.

_An angel- he was an angel._

Was. Somehow, Sam knew that whatever that ritual was hadn't killed him, but had done something far worse instead.

_Hell._

Sam didn't know how he knew this. It was as if the knowledge had just been passed directly to him, without the need for words.

"They didn't kill me. They didn't think that I was worth killing."

Sam jumps. The shift back to the here and now had been a sudden one, and unexpected.

"They were always underestimating us- us small, insignificant humans. But I changed. I evolved. I became something greater than human, something far more powerful. And now, so have you."

Sam struggles out of her grip. She lets him go. There is the coppery taste of blood in his mouth- he must have bit his own lip without realizing it.

"You can't just _do_ that!" He presses a hand against the wound, feeling the blood seeping out. His shoulder tingles as he feels something foreign enter his bloodstream.

_That's not fair._

The thought seems a little irrational, because if there was anything that he had learned in his messed up life it was that things just weren't fair. But still, when the angels had wanted to screw around with his life, they had at least made a show of asking for his permission first. Even Azazel- as screwed up as it had been, he had still had to _ask- _if it hadn't been for that deal that he made with Mom, then he never would have been able to do what he did_._ That was the way it was supposed to be- so long as you didn't make any deals with demons, so long as you were good and followed the rules, things would be okay. This was different. This was a baby antelope that gets eaten on one of those nature programs by a lion just because.

The tingling sensation spreads, and Sam gets angry. "So what? They sent your angel boyfriend to Hell and now you want revenge, is that what this is?"

Her face is stony, expressionless. "This has nothing to do with him. He is still trapped in Hell and I intend for him to stay there- the time spent there has no doubt changed him, and not for the better. But that day, I caught a glimpse of what they are- what they truly are, behind all their stained glass and pretty hymns. I've watched over the millennia as they spread their influence over the world- how many of humans do you think have died because of them? You of all people should know why they must be destroyed."

"But they aren't all like that!" Sam protests.

Eve is looking up to the leaves of her tree, seemingly no longer interested in the conversation. "Almost time now." She hums, eyes distant.

He tries to take a step forward, but his legs suddenly seem to be made out of jello and he falls over instead, hitting his knee on a rock on his way down.

"I don't expect that the transition will be pleasant for you. Change never comes easy."

There is something burning under his skin. It spreads like thick tar though his limbs, pooling at the tips of his fingers and toes.

_This is no dream, this is really happening!  
_What was that, a 'Rosemary's Baby' quote? Regardless, once the thought came, there was suddenly no room for doubt. This was no hallucination, or another one of Lucifer's mind games. It was real. The realization was entirely without evidence, but it was there, and it was unquestionable.

Eve is looking at him, impassive. Her bodies edges seem to be blending in with the massive tree behind her. Sam can't tell if she's really margining back into it, or if it's just a trick of the eyes. He suddenly feels far to disoriented to be sure. The earth below him seems to be shifting, circling in random spiraling patterns.

"My children will greet you on your return to Earth. They will help you learn how to use your new abilities.

_Oh Hell no._

He remembers how Cas, and even Gabriel in the end had fought against Armageddon, fought to protect humanity. They had both died for it too, killed by Lucifer. And regardless of how much Sam had tried to stop it, Cas had been killed with a snap of Sam's own fingers.

Sam couldn't change what had happened- but he sure as hell wasn't going to let himself be turned into some sort of angel-killing monster.

The world around him shifts even further, until it is something that barely even resembles a physical space. Sam is somewhere between, in the space between dimensions. He is moving away from the chaotically swirling brown colors of purgatory. There are other colors, all around him. To his left, he sees the scorched red and black of hell, and to his right is the steady blue green of Earth- of home. He can feel himself moving towards it, guided by some force similar to gravity.

For a brief moment, he can't help but be swept away by the shear awe of it all- he is seeing something that likely no one else has seen before him. The scope of it all is truly amazing. He ignores the pain and cranes his neck further and then he sees it.

It is made out of pure light, brighter than anything that he has ever seen. The sun was dim, a flickering candle in comparison. Sam thinks of the quasars, the ancient and massive clusters at the edge of the known universe, thinks of how they would be dwarfed by the size of this _thing. _

_Heaven._

It should be wonderful. It should be beautiful.

Except that it's not.

It's terrifying.

There is something _wrong_ with it, wrong in some fundamental way that there aren't words for. It was cold and all-consuming, and it needed to be stopped.

_This is the bite talking, not you. _

He forced his eyes away, just as he fell through the portal to Earth. He needed to be careful- he couldn't let himself turn into the weapon that Eve wanted him to be. He had dealt with bloodlust before.

_Right, because you did such a good job of that last time. _His brain unhelpfully added.

He shook the thought off. He would do better this time. He had to.

To be Continued…

I'm going to miss writing the Purgatory Chapters, they were trippy and fun. But at least now all the characters are in the same plane of existence, so the fic should be less fragmented for a while (hopefully).

Let me know what you think!


	8. 8- Dean

AN: I will say this though, writing in all these different POVs is a great way to keep the narration style fresh. They all seem to bring something different to the events going on around them. And for something as long and overly-complex as this is going to be, I think that's probably necessary.

**DEAN**

All things considered, Dean really should have suspected that things would turn out like this. The case had been weird right from the start, but he had been so distracted by the idea of 'vampire bank robbers' that he hadn't seen it until it was too late. But between the mysterious ancient coin of unknown origin and the dead little girl in the freezer, it was starting to look like some serious dark magic was about to take place that they were in no way prepared to deal with. And this was supposed to be an easy hunt.

Friggin' vampire bank robbers. They are nowhere near as fun of a hunt as he thought that they would be.

What they are instead, is _strong._ Dean had been right about the number- there was only three of them, and one of them was hanging back, watching from the shadows for some reason, so it was one-on-one. They _should_ have been easy to take care of. Except that these guys seem to be on some kind of vampire steroids or something because they hit way harder than they are supposed to be able to.

Dean staggers back, readjusts his grip on the machete. "Well, looks like somebody ate their Wheaties this morning."  
The vampire that he's fighting, some boney, pale and greasy-haired dude of vaguely European origin does not seem to have an appreciation for snark. He lunges, wielding a broken two-by-four like it's a medieval mace. Dean barely has enough time to duck his head from out of the path of the thing. The block of wood hits the brick wall instead and shatters into tiny little splinters. There is no way that a dude this wire-thin could do that normally.

You know, when Dean imagined a steroid-vampire before this moment (his brain goes weird places sometimes, sue him), he always pictured some dude that looked like what would happen if Mr T and a wild grizzly bear had a really pissed off baby. Not some toothpick-thin asshole that looked like he hadn't had a bath in three months.

_Maybe it's not vampire steroids, maybe it's vampire meth._

The thought made a bizarre amount of sense, and he had a brief mental image of Walter White from Breaking Bad wearing a Dracula cape.

"Vat's so funny?" The vampire asked in his thick accent, and it took all of Deans very limited self-control not to double over laughing right then and there.

"Nothing- it's nothing."

The normal back and forth rhythm of fighting resumes, though Dean is on the defensive way more then he would like.

Castiel doesn't seem to be having any more luck. If anything, he seems to be even worse off than Dean is- the vampire that he's fighting is some feral little kid that moves way faster than should be allowed. Fighting against a monster that looks like a kid is hard. Loosing against a monster that looks like a kid is harder, but for different reasons.

This is starting to piss him off. He _knows_ how to take care of a vampire, damn it, he's done it a million times before, this shouldn't be so hard.

_It's got to be vampire steroids._

The third vampire has still made no move to join the fight. That pisses Dean off even more, the fact that the vampires don't even think this is an all-hands-on-deck sort of situation.

The vampire watches, dark eyes cold, calculating. Dean can't really get a good look at the guy in between trying not to get killed, but he can tell that they guy is bad news. He can also tell that the dude seriously needs to trim his fingernails- the things look more like claws at this point.

So, to sum up the situation, you've got the European meth-head vampire, or 'Breaking Vlad' as Dean has decided to call him. You've got the feral child vampire- 'Little Miss No Sunshine' (ok, that name needs some work). Then finally there's the big boss vampire, who Dean has decided to call 'The Hangnail', as he really can't think of a clever name at the moment. All of them seem to be ridiculously overpowered and pissed as all Hell that their little ritual was interrupted.

So basically, the situation is crap.

Things manage to take a turn for the even crappier when Little Miss No Sunshine (and yes, Dean is going to keep calling her that until he thinks of a better name) does this weird flying-leap move and manages to wrap Cas up into something that might resemble a hug if it didn't involve so many, you know, teeth. Cas tries to get her off by body slamming into the nearest brick wall, but that seems to have no effect on the brat whatsoever. Dean is just about to head over there and help out when the kid suddenly jumps off and goes skidding backwards on all fours.

"Vat's wrong?" Breaking Vlad asks.

Little Miss No Sunshine (Sunshine for short, because that's starting to be a mouthful, even if it is only in Deans head) is still crouched down on the floor like some startled forest animal. There is blood dripping from her mouth. "He tastes weird. Not bad, just… different. Like he's not really human."

Dean glances over at Cas, who is clutching a hand over a gaping shoulder wound (and seriously, who the Hell bites somebodies shoulder?), and has something almost resembling an idea.

"Yeah, well, that's because he isn't human."

Everyone turns to look at Dean and he has a brief moment to consider the fact that he really didn't plan this out, before continuing. "That's right. This guy right here- is an angel."

There is a brief flash of something resembling fear on the faces of Breaking Vlad and Sunshine, which means that despite all logic and reason this might actually work.

"A real life angel, could turn all of you to dust just as easily as blinking." Dean turns to Cas, grinning, before suddenly realizing just why _'Let's bluff our way out of here'_ is such a bad idea. Cas, as it turns out, does not seem to know what bluffing is.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cas asks, looking at Dean like he is insane.

Dean tries to mentally project_ 'just go along with it'_ as best as he can, but since telepathy isn't really a thing, it doesn't really seem to be working. And Cas is hopelessly clueless at picking up nonverbal conversational cues even in the most basic of situations, so it's really no wonder that he doesn't understand Deans (admittedly, not all that great) plan. Of course, by this point it's too late to back out, so Dean just keeps going with it.

He forces a laugh. "Believe me, you really don't want to get on an angels bad side - You've all heard of the plagues of Egypt, right? And that giant flood that covered the entire earth. They had to repopulate the entire earth with just one boat. Which really explains a lot about the world, don't you think? I mean, the inbreeding must have been _terrible._"

Everyone is staring at him. By this point Dean's plan has devolved from 'bluffing' to 'stall for time like an idiotic jackass'. Which, all things considered, seems to be working quite well, even if it isn't really accomplishing anything.

"Vat are you talking about?" Breaking Vlad asks, seemingly genuinely confused.

"I- was trying to distract you."

The vampire looks around the empty meat packing plant. "From vat?"  
"I don't know, man. Look, can we just go back to me getting my ass kicked? This is embarrassing."

No one is moving. The silence has become downright awkward. Sunshine still hasn't moved from her crouching position on the floor.

It occurs to Dean that if he dies now, it will officially be the most socially awkward death ever.

"Hey Cas, if you've got any super-secret Fallen Angel powers that you didn't tell me about, now would be a really good time to use them."

"He's one of the _Fallen_?" The question comes suddenly from Sunshine, who sounds almost panicked.

Her reaction is surprising. Dean glances over to Cas. "_Do_ you have super-secret Fallen Angel powers? Because that would actually be pretty great right now."

Cas shoots Dean a withering look. "Dean, I've already explained to you that I am powerless."

"A Watcher, then?" Hangnail steps out from the shadows. His voice is much, much deeper then Dean had imagined. "What is a Watcher doing pretending to be a hunter?"

Cas looks at Hangnail, and there is a brief flash of recognition. Castiel's expression immediately hardens. "And what is the Alpha of Vampires doing robbing banks?" Dean has no idea what an 'Alpha' is, but the cold way that Cas says it, and the fact that Cas is staring at the vampire like he's trying to make him spontaneously combust with his mind makes Dean realize that whoever, or whatever this Hangnail guy is, he was serious business.

"We needed one last ingredient to complete our ritual"

Sunshine and Breaking Vlad back away as soon as Hangnail, or the 'Alpha' or whatever approaches. They didn't even bother taking Deans machete away from him, though Dean can somehow tell, on some weird level, that this guy couldn't be killed by normal weapons anyway.

_We've walked right into the lions den, haven't we?_

The Alpha pulls an ancient looking coin out of nowhere and Dean briefly wonders if the vampire practices sleight of hand in his free time.

"A coin from the place of my birth- a civilization whose name has been lost over time- you angels saw to that. My people refused to obey you, so you killed them. You burned our temples, and crushed our cities to dust. And you made the world forget about us. You would have killed me too if Eve had not saved me."  
There is an unreadable expression on Castiel's face. "Eve did not save you. She turned you into a monster."

"It's a matter of perspective, I suppose. Tell me, Watcher, how many humans have you killed?"

Dean was starting to get pissed. There was no way that a dude that literally survived by drinking human blood had any right to talk to Cas like that. And sure, the angels did some really screwed up things in the past. Dean had seen enough to feel pretty confident that most of the angels were nothing more than gigantic dicks. But Cas wasn't _like_ the rest of them. And he didn't deserve the crap that the vampire was laying on him.

Then Dean remembered that he was still holding the machete.

He looked around. Literally no one was paying any attention to him, they were all too busy listening to that manicure-needing vampire ass-clown monologue. Dean judges the distance between himself and Breaking Vlad- not far at all. He figures that if he gets lucky, he can get a good swing at him before anyone realizes what he's doing. After that- well, Dean's not really sure, but he can cross that bridge when he gets to it. He edges himself closer, strengthening his grip on the machete.

_Here goes nothing._

He swings, and Breaking Vlad's head hits the floor before he even sees Dean coming. Dean lets out a triumphant "HA! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, _Heisenberg_!"

He doesn't have long to savor the victory though, as Sunshine lets out a cry of rage and charges at him. And seriously, it had been one thing to watch her fighting Cas, but actually trying to dodge her attacks himself was a _nightmare_. She moved inhumanly fast, so fast that his eyes could barely keep up with her. He stepped backwards, tripped on something and found himself falling to the floor.

_Shit, this is bad._

He saw her leaping towards him, fangs still red with blood. He realizes, vaguely, that he is probably going to die.

_God, Lisa's going to be so pissed at me. She made me promise that I wouldn't do that._

There is a flash of movement, and suddenly Sunshine isn't leaping towards him anymore.

Dean blinks, takes a moment to reassess the situation, when he sees Cas. It looked like Cas had ditched his conversation with Hangnail and had straight-up football tackled Sunshine before she could get to Dean.

It didn't look like either of them had made a very graceful landing. Sunshine's teeth were buried up to the gums in Cas's forearm as she tried to push him off of her. Cas is reaching for his knife with the hand that isn't currently attached to a vampire, but can't quite seem to grasp it.

Dean decides that now is a good time to get off his ass, and he scrambles over to them.

He glances up. Hangnail hasn't tried to intervene at all this entire time- rather, he seems to be content to be watching the events passively.

_He doesn't care. He doesn't care if we kill them._

Dean isn't really_ surprised_. That's just the way monsters are. The asshole is probably convinced that he can take both him and Cas on by himself, making the other two pretty irrelevant. But still, that's pretty cold.

Dean grips the machete tighter as he approaches. _She looks like a little kid._

He knew she wasn't, really. Vampires didn't age like humans, so she might be like 500 years old. But she _looked_ like one.

He thought of the other little girl, the one who had been tied up in the freezer and drained of her blood for whatever ritual that they were preparing. This one had probably helped kill her. She had probably lured her off of some playground somewhere, brought her to where the other vampires were waiting. She might have been the one that slit the girls throat, collected her blood.

Dean is suddenly aware that he's been standing there for longer than he should have. Cas is looking up at him, still holding her against the ground. The girl had started violently gnawing on Cas' arm in an attempt to get him off, but Cas doesn't even really seem to feel her. His face is blank, expressionless. With his free arm, he reaches up, grabs the machete from Deans hands. Dean lets him take it without really realizing it, and the next thing he knows, Cas brings the blade to the girls neck.

_Vampire. Not girl, vampire. And she was trying to kill us first. _

Even so, Dean finds that he doesn't want to look. There is something downright _unsettling_ about the image, about Cas' lack of hesitation, the brutal efficiency with which he gets the job done. Castiels eyes are cold, and for a brief moment, logic doesn't matter, and he feels a flash of fear towards his friend.

_Who are you? Who the hell are you, really?_

The moment passes as soon as soon as Cas stumbles up from the vampires body. Suddenly, Cas is just Cas again, and he's hurt, he's _bleeding_, and Dean had made him finish off a monster even as his arm was getting gnawed to ribbons just because he hadn't had the stomach to do his own damned _job_.

_You, Dean Winchester, are one selfish, hypocritical asshole. _

He pushes the offending suspicion deep into his mental box of 'let's never think about this again' and tries to smile. "Thanks for the save."

Cas looks at him. "That was an incredibly unwise course of action."

"I don't know, I think it helped even the odds at least a little- its two against one now. I bet we can take him."  
Cas is staring at Dean like he's some sort of idiot. "Dean, that is the _Alpha Vampire._"

"Dude, I'm _Dean Winchester,_ and I did not survive angels and demons so that I could get killed by a friggin' vampire. I don't care if he _is_ the vampire king."

Castiel's glare increases in intensity.

"_Is_ he the vampire king?"

Cas actually rolls his eyes, before turning to look at the remaining vampire. The vampire hasn't moved- he seems to be waiting for them to come to him, as he's blocking the only exit. He seems to be watching them, smiling slightly.

"You are Dean Winchester?" The vampire asks, sounding amused.

"Yeah, so what?"

"It is interesting that you are here."  
"Why is that?"

"Because," the vampire said, smile widening, "I'm about to bring your brother back to life."

To be continued…


End file.
